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SERMONS
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KM. C. H. SPURaEON,
liftfe ^tXXtB.
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TO
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IN
THE TRINITY OF HIS SACRED PERSONS,
BE ALL HONOR AND GLORY,
WITH(
AMEN.
TO THE GLORIOUS FATHER, AS THE COVENANT GOD
OF ISRAEL;
TO THE GRACIOUS SON, THE REDEEMER OF HIS PEOPLE ;
)LY GHOST, THE A
SANCTIFICATION ;
BE EVERLASTING PRAISE FOR THAT GOSPEL OF THE
HEREIN PROCLAIMED UNTO MEN.
885970
PREFACE
I f:^l that the readers of my sermons are my friends.
Many, doubtless, read to cavil, to criticise, and to con-
demn ; but a vast number have charity enough to
overlook the faults, grace enough to profit by the truths,
and kindness enough to allow me a place in their hearts.
Innumerable are the loving epistles which I have re-
ceived from those to whom these sermons have been
blessed. From all denominations of Christian men have
I received cheering words of sympathy and affection. I
can appreciate the high Christian feeling which has con-
strained my brethren to bear with all the things in which
we can not agree, and cordially to accept me as a brother
beloved, because of those glorious truths in which we
alike rejoice. I would, therefore, in this preface salute
all the brethren, desiring that grace, mercy, and peace
may be multiplied unto them from God our Father and
the Lord Jesus Christ. May our prayers be heard for
each other, when we earnestly pray the Father of mer-
cies to fill us all with the Spirit of his Son, that we may
be conformed unto his image in all things, and at last
may appear with him in glory.
And now what can I say fresh by way of preface to
this volume? Assuredly I am shut up to one subject,
and that involves a repetition of the song of former
V113 PEEFACE.
years. I must sing of judgment and mercy, and at the
risk of incurring the charge of egotism, I will here
record my praise.
Personally I have experienced a twofold and memor-
able deliverance; once by an escape from a terrible ac-
cident ; and yet again, by a happy recovery from most
trying and painful sickness. May my life be henceforth
doubly devoted unto the service of the Lord !
In the ministry^ too, the Lord hath been very gracious.
The people have never failed to gather in immense mul-
titudes, nor have the brethren ceased to wrestle in prayer
that the Word may be prospered. But my special crown
of rejoicing lies in the success which a condescending
Master has given to one who feels far more than ever
his utter and entire unworthiness of such a favor, for
these sermons have upon them the stamp of the Lord's
right hand, seeing that he has employed them for convic-
tion, conversion, and edification.
I value a sermon, not by the approbation of men, or
the ability manifest in it, but by the effect produced in
comforting the saint, and awakening the sinner. Is not
this, after all, the practical way of estimating all that is
spoken or written ?
A fresh source of consolation has been opened to me
from the information I receive of the good attending the
public reading of these printed preachings. In lonely
places there are Churches of Christ whose only ministry is
found in these pages, save when a passing evangelist is led
to open his mouth among them. In rooms in the crowded
haunts of poverty, these are read to hundreds who could
scarcely understand any language more refined; while at
races, and fairs, and even at pilgrimages of the Eomish
PREFACE. IX
churcli, these have been used by earnest brethren as a
means of obtaining an audience in the open air. In
America, more than one hundred and fifty thousand
volumes have been sold; in Australia, two local editions
have appeared, besides those which have been exported
by the London publishers. A Welsh edition has been
issued monthly, and several of the sermons have been
translated into Dutch, German, and French, while the
English circulation remains undiminished.
But what of all this, unless the Spirit of the Lord shall
apply the Word with power? In vain true doctrine and
faithful warning, without his divine influence. Brethren,
pray for us I that the Word may be more and more a
"savor of life unto life" in the souls of those who shall
peruse these pages.
There is one theme of rejoicing to which I am con-
strained to allude. The importance of the pulpit is evi-
dently beginning to be recognized. I greatly I'ejoice in
the opening of St. Paul's Cathedral, and other large
buildings for the ministry of the Word. May the zeal of
the churches increase, and may the preaching be the proc-
lamation of the truth as it is in JesVjS. Sound doctrine is
as essential now as in the days of the Eeformation. We
must not congratulate ourselves on the mere assemblage of
crowds, but we must see to it that the gospel is preached,
not mere moral maxims and ceremonial observances.
With love to all the people of God, I am,
The servant of Christ and his Church,
C. H. SPURGEOK
Apbil, 1859.
1*
CONTENTS.
^♦■»-
SERMON I.
PAQH
Hifl Name — ^Wondebful 16
SERMON n.
His Name — the Counselob 31
SERMON III.
" As THY Days, bo shall thy Strength be" 49
SERMON IV.
The Voice of the Blood of Christ % 65
SERMON V.
The New Heart 81
SERMON VI.
The Fatherhood of Qod 97
SERMON Vn.
Eykbybody'b Sermon 112
XU CONTENTS.
SERMON YIII.
PAGE
A Lecture tor Little-Faith 129
SERMON IX.
Confession and Absolution 14'?
SERMON X.
Declension from First Loye 164
SERMON XI.
God's Barriers against Man's Sin 180
SERMON XII.
Comfort Proclaimed 19t
SERMON XIII.
The Christian's Heaviness and Rejoicing 211
SERMON XIY.
Evil and its Remedy. 222
SERMON XY.
Samson Conquered 23G
CONTENTS. XUl
SERMON XVI.
PAOB
LooKixG UNTO Jesus 253
SERMON XVn.
Satan's Banquet .' 270
SERMON XYin.
The Feast of the Lord 289
SERMON XIX.
The Blood 303
SERMON XX.
Love 319
SERMON XXI.
The Great Revival 336
SERMON XXn.
The Form and Spirit op Religion 353
SERMON XXin.
Proyidbnoe 370
XIV CONTENTS
SERMON XXIV.
PAOK
The Yanguard and Reretvaed of the Church 38T
SERMON XXV.
The World Turned Upside Down 402
SERMON XXVI.
Human Responsibility 420
SERMON XXVII.
Faith in Perfection 437
•SERMON I.
HIS NAME — WONDERFUL.
"His name shall be called. "WonderM" — ^Isaiah, ix. 6.
One evening last week I stood by the sea-shore when the
storm was raging. The voi«e of the Lord was upon the wat-
ers ; and who was I that I should tarry within doors, when
my Master's voice was heard sounding along the water ? I
rose and stood to behold the flash of his lightnings, and listen
to the glory of his thunders. The sea and the thunders were
contesting with one another; the sea with infinite clamor
striving to hush the deep-throated thunder, so that his voice
should not be heard; yet over and above the roar of the
billows might be heard that voice of God, as he spake with
flames of fire, and divided the way for the waters. It was a
dark night, and the sky was covered with thick clouds, and
scarce a star could be seen through the rifts of the tempest ;
but at one particular time, I noticed far away on the horizon,
as if miles across the water, a bright shining, like gold. It
was the moon hidden behind the clouds, so that she could not
shine upon us ; but she was able to send her rays down upon
the waters, far away, where no cloud happened to intervene.
I thought, as I read this chapto*" last evening, that the prophet
seemed to have stood in a like position, when he wrote the
words of my text. All round about him were clouds of dark-
ness ; he heard prophetic thunders roaring, and he saw flashes
of the lightnings of divine vengeance ; clouds and darkness, for
many a league, were scattered through history ; but he saw
far away a bright spot — one place where the clear shining
came down from heaven. And he sat down, and he penned
these words : " The people that walked in darkness have seen
a great light : they that dwell in the land of the shadow of
16 HIS.NAME — WpNi)ifi4J.F\JL,
death, upon them hi'.tK t.hfi.Ii^ht sliiaed :" and though he looked
through whole leagues of space^ where iie ba'ir the battle of the
warrior " with confused noise and garments rolled in blood,"
yet he fixed his eye upon one bright spot in futurity, and he
declared, that there he saw hope of pe^ce, prosperity and
blessedness ; for said he, " Unto us a child is born, unto us a
son is given : and the government shall be upon his shoulder :
and his name shall be called Wonderful."
My dear friends, we live to-day upon the verge of that
bright spot. The world has been passing through these clouds
of darkness, and the light is gleaming on us now, like the
glintings of the first rays of morijing. We are coming to a
brighter day, and " at evening time it shall be light." The
clouds and darkness shall be rolled up as a mantle that God
needs no longer, and he shall appear in his glory, and his peo-
ple shall rejoice with him. But you must mark, that all the
brightness was the result of this child born, this son given,
whose name is called Wonderful ; and if we can discern any
brightness in our own hearts, or in the world's history, it can
come from nowhere else, than from the one who is called
" Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God."
The person spoken of in our text, is undoubtedly the Lord
Jesus Christ. He is a child born, with reference to his hu-
man nature ; he is born of the Virgin, a child. But he is a
son given, with reference to his divine nature, being given as
well as born. Of course, the Godhead could not be born of
woman. That was from everlasting, and is to everlasting.
As a child he was born, as a son he was given. " The gov-
ernment is upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called
Wonderful." Beloved, there are a thousand things in this
world, that are called by names that do not belong to them ;
but in entering upon my text, I must announce at the very
opening, that Christ is called Wonderful because he is so.
God the Father never gave his Son a name which he did not
deserve. There is no panegyric here, no flattery. It is just
the simple name that he deserves ; they that know him best
will say that the word doth not overstrain his merits, but
rather falleth infinitely short of his glorious deserving. Hia
HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. 17
name is called Wonderful. And mark, it does not merely
say, that God has given him the name of Wonderful — though
that is implied ; but " his name shall be called'^'' so. It shall
be ; it is at this time called Wonderful by all his believing
people, and it shall be. As long as the moon endureth, there
shall be found men, and angels, and glorified spirits, who shall
always call him by his right name. " His name shall be called
Wonderful."
I find that this name may bear two or three interpretations.
The word is sometimes in Scripture translated " marvelous."
Jesus Christ may be called marvelous; and a learned Ger-
man interpreter says, that without doubt, the meaning of
miraculous is also wrapped up in it. Christ is the marvel of
marvels, the miracle of miracles. " His name shall be called
Miraculous^'' for he is more than a man, he is God's highest
miracle. *' Great is the mystery of godliness ; God Avas man-
ifest in the flesh." It may also mean separated or distin-
guished. And Jesus Christ may well be called this ; for as
Saul was distinguished from all men, being head and shoulders
taller than they, so is Christ distinguished above all men ; he
is anointed with the oil of gladness above his fellows, and in
his character, and in his acts, he is infinitely separated from
all comparison with any of the sons of men. " Thou art fairer
than the children of men ; grace is poured into thy lips." He
is "the chief among ten thousand and altogether lovely."
"His name shall be called the Separated One^'' the distin-
guished one, the noble one, set apart from the common race
of mankind.
Wo shall, however, this morning, keep to the old version,
and simply read it thus, " His name shall be called Wonder-
ful." And first I shall notice that Jesus Christ deserveth to
be called Wonderful for what he was in the past ; secondly,
that he is called Wondorful by all his people for what lie is in
tlie present ; and in the thiid place^ that he shall be called
Wonderful, /o7* what he shall he in the future,
I. First, Christ shall be called Wonderful for what he was
IN THE past. Gather up your thoughts, my brethren, for a
moment, and center them all on Christ, and you will soon see
10 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL.
how wonderful he is. Consider his eternal existence, " begot-
ten of his Father from before all worlds," being of the same
substance with his Father : begotten, not made, co-equal, co-
eternal, in every attribute " very God of very God." For a
moment remember that he who became an infant of a span
long, was no less than the King of ages, the everlasting Fath-
er, who was from eternity, and is to be to all etei'nity. The
divine nature of Christ is indeed wonderful. Just think for a,
moment, how much interest clusters round the hfe of an old
man. Those of us who are but as children in years, look vip
to him with wonder and astonishment, as he tells us the va-
ried stories of the experience through which he has passed.
But what is the life of an aged man ? How brief it appears
when compared with the life of the tree that shelters him.
It existed long before that old man's father crept, a helpless
infant, into the world. How many storms have swept over its
brow ! how many kings have come and gone ! how many em-
pires have risen and fallen since that old oak was slumbering
in its acorn cradle !
But what is the life of the tree compared with the soil on
which it grows ? What a wonderful story that soil might tell!
What changes it has passed through in all the eras of time that
have elapsed since, " in the beginning, God created the heavens
and the earth." There is a wonderful story connected with
every atom of black mold which furnishes the nourishment
of the oak. But what is the history of that soil compared
with the marvelous history of the rock on which it rests — the
chff on which it lifts its head ? Oh! what stories might it tell,
what records lie hidden in its bow^els. Perhaps it could tell the
story of the time when " the earth was without form and void,
and darkness was upon the face of the earth." Perhaps it
might speak and tell us of those days when the morning and
the evening were the first day, and ike morning and the even-
ing were the second day, and could explain -to us the myster-
ies of how God made this marvelous piece of miracle — the
world. But what is the history of the cliff compared with
that of the sea that rolls at its base — that deep blue ocean,
over which a thousand navies have swept, without leaving a
HIS NAME — TVONDEBFTJL. 19
furrow upon its brow ? But what is the history of the sea
compared with the history of the heavens that are stretched
like a curtain over that vast basin ? What a history is that
of the hosts of heaven — of the everlasting marches of the sun,
moon, and stars ! Who can tell their generation, or who can
write their biography ? But what is the history of the heavens
compared with the history of the angels ? They could tell
you of the day when they saw this world wrapj^ed in swad-
dling bands of mist — when, like a new-born infant, the last of
God's offspring, it came forth from him, and the morning stars
sang together, and the sons of God shouted for joy. But
what is the history of the angels that excel in strength, com-
pared with the history of the Lord Jesus Christ ? The angel
is but of yesterday, and he knoweth nothing ; Christ, the
eternal One, chargeth even his angels with folly, and looks
upon them as his ministering spirits, that come and go at his
good pleasure. Oh, Christians, gather with reverence and
mysterious awe around the throne of him who is your
great Redeemer ; for " his name is called Wonderful," since
he has existed before aU things, and "by, him all things were
made; and without him was not any thing, made that was
made."
Consider, again, the incarnation of Christ, and you will
rightly say that his name deserveth to be called " Wonderful."
Oh ! what is that I see ? Oh ! world of wonders, what is that
I see ? The Eternal of ages, whose hair is white like wool, a§
white as snow, becomes an infant. Can it be ? Ye angela,
are ye not astonished ? He becomes an infant, hangs at a vii>
gin's breast, draws his nourishment from the breast of woman.
Oh wonder of wonders ! Manger of Bethlehem, thou hast
miracles poured into thee ! This is a sight that surpasses all
others. Talk ye of the sun, moon, and stars; consider ye the
heavens, the work of God's fingers, the moon and the stars
that he hath ordained ; but all the wonders of the universe
shrink into nothing when we come to the mystery of the in-
carnation of the Lord Jesus Christ. It was a marvelous
thing when Joshua bade the sun to stand still, but more mar-
velous when God seemed to stand still, an«l no longer to movo
20 HIS NAME AVOISDEEFUL.
forward, but rather, like the sun upon the dial of Ahaz, did
go back ten degrees^ and vail his splendor in a cloud. There
have been sights matchless and wonderful, at which we might
look for years, and yet turn away and say, " I can not under-
stand this ; here is a deep into which I dare not dive ; my
thoughts are drowned ; this is a steep without a summit ; I
can not climb it ; it is high, I can not attain it !" But all these
things are as nothing, compared with the incarnation of the
Son of God. I do believe that the very angels have never
wondered but once, and that has been incessantly ever since
they first beheld it. They never cease to tell the astonisliing
story, and to tell it with increasing astonishment too, that
Jesus Christ, the Son of God, was born of the Virgin Mary,
and became a man. Is he not rightly called Wonderful ? In-
finite, and an infant — eternal, and yet born of a woman — Al-
mighty, and yet hanging on a woman's breast — supporting the
universe, and yet needing to be carried in a mother's arms —
King of angels, and yet the reputed son of Joseph — heir of all
things, and yet the carpenter's despised son. Wonderful art
thou, O Jesus, and that shall be thy name for ever.
But trace the Saviour's course, and all the w^ay he is won-
derful. Is it not marvelous that he submitted to the taunts
and jeers of his enemies — that for a long life he should allow
the bulls of Bashan to gird him round, and the dogs to en-
compass him ? Is it not surprising that he should have bridled
his anger, when blasphemy was uttered against his sacied per-
son ? Had you or I been possessed of his matchless might,
we should have dashed our enemies down the brow of the
hill, if they had sought to cast us there ; we should never have
submitted to shame and spitting ; no, we would have looked
upon them, and with one fierce look of wrath, have dashed
their spirits into eternal torment. But he bears it all — keeps
in his noble spirit — the lion of the tribe of Judah, but bearing
stiU the lamb -like character of
" The humble man before his foes,
A weary man, and full of woes."
I do believe that Jesus of Nazareth was the King of heaven,
HIS NAME — WONDERFUL. 21
and yet he was a poor, despised, persecuted, slandered man ;
but while I believe it I never can understand it. I bless him
for it ; I love him for it ; I desire to praise his name while im-
tnortality endures for his infinite condescension in thus suffer-
ing for me ; but to understand it, I can never pretend. His
name must all his life long be called Wonderful.
But see him die. Come, O my brothers, ye children of God,
and gather round the cross. See your Master. There he
hangs. Can you understand this riddle : God was manifest in
the flesh, and crucified of men ? My Master, I can not under-
stand how thou couldst stoop thine awful head to such a death
as this — how thou couldst take from thy brow the coronet of
stars which from old eternity had shone resplendent there ;
but how thou shouldst permit the thorn-crown to gird thy
temples astonishes me far more. That thou shouldst cast
away the mantle of thy glory, the azure of thy everlasting
empire, I can not comprehend ; but how thou shouldst have
become vailed in the ignominious purple for awhile, and then
be bowed to by impious men, who mocked thee as a pretended
king, and how thou shouldst be stripped naked to thy shame,
without a single covering, this is still more incomprehensible.
Truly thy name is Wonderful. Oh thy love to me is wonder-
ful, passing the love of woman. Was ever grief like thine ?
Was ever love like thine, that could open the flood-gates of
such grief. Thy grief is like a river ; but was there ever
spring that poured out such a torrent ? Was ever love so
mighty as to become the fount from which such an ocean of
grief could come rolling down ? Here is matchless love —
matchless love to make him suffer, matchless power to enable
him to endure all the weight of his Father's wrath. Here is
matchless justice, that he himself should acquiesce in his
Father's will, and not allow men to be saved without his own
sufferings ; and here is matchless mercy to the chief of sin-
ners, that Christ should suffer even for them. "His name
shall be called Wonderful."
But he died. He died! See Salem's daughters weep
around. Joseph of Arimathea takes up the lifeless body after
it has been taken down from the cross. They bear it away to
22 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL.
the sepulcher. It is put in a garden. Do you call him Won-
derful now ?
" Is this the Saviour long foretold
To usher in the age of gold ?"
And is he dead ? Lift his hands ! They drop motionless by
his side. His foot exhibits still the nail-print ; but there is no
mark of life. *^ Aha," cries the Jew, " is this the Messiah ?
He is dead ; he shall see corruption in a little space of time.
Oh ! watchman, keep good ward lest his disciples steal his
body. His body can never come forth, unless they do steal
it ; for he is dead. Is this the Wonderful, the Counselor ?"
But God did not leave his soul in Hades, nor did he suffer his
body — " his holy one " — to see corruption ? Yes, he is won-
derful, even iii his death. That clay-cold corpse is wonderful.
Perhaps this is the greatest wonder of all, that he who is
" Death of death and hell's destruction " should for awhile
endure the bonds of death. But here is the wonder. He
could not be holden of those bonds. Those chains, which have
held ten thousand of the sons and daughters of Adam, and
which have never been broken yet by any man of human
mold, save by a miracle, were but to him as green withes.
Death bound our Samson fast, and said, " I have him now ; I
have taken away the locks of his strength ; his glory is de-
parted, and now he is mine." But the bands that kept the
human race in chains were nothing to the Saviour ; the third
day he burst them, and he rose again from the dead, from
henceforth to llie no more. Oh ! thou risen Saviour — thou
who couldst not see corruption — thou art wonderful in thy res-
urrection. And thou art wonderful too in thine ascension,
as I see thee leading captivity captive and receiving gifts for
men. " His name shall be called Wonderful."
Pause here one moment, and let us think — Christ is surpass-
ingly wonderful. The little story I have told you just now
— not little in itself, but Kttle as I have told it — has in it some-
thing surpassingly wonderful. All the wonders that you ever
saw are nothing compared with this. As we have passed
through various countries we have seen a wonder, and some
older traveler than ourselves has said, " Yes, this is wonderful
HTS NAME — WONDERFUL. 23
to you, but T could show you something that utterly eclipses
that." Though we have seen some splendid landscapes, with
glorious hills, and we have climbed up where the eagle seemed
to knit the mountain and the sky together in his flight, and
we have stood and looked down, and said, "How wonderful!"
saith he, " I have seen fairer lauds than these, and wider and
richer prospects far." But when we speak of Christ, none can
say they ever saw a greater wonder than he is. You have
come now to the very summit of every thing that may be
wondered at. There are no mysteries equal to this mystery ;
there is no surprise equal to this surprise ; there is no aston-
ishment, no admiration that should equal the astonishment and
admiration that we feel when we behold Christ in the glories
of the past. He surpasses every thing.
And yet again. Wonder is a short-lived emotion ; you know,
it is proverbial that a wonder grows gray-headed in nine days.
The longest period that a wonder is known to live is about that
time. It is such a short-lived thing. But Christ is, and ever
shall be wonderful. You may think of him through threescore
years and ten, but you shall wonder at him more at the end
than at the beginning. Abraham might wonder at him, when
he saw his day in the distant future ; but I do not think that
even Abraham himself could wonder at Christ so much as the
very least in the kingdom of heaven of to-day wonders at
him, seeing that we know more than Abraham, and therefore
wonder more. Think again for one moment, and you will say
of Christ that he deserves to be called Wonderful, not only
because he is always wonderful, and because he is surpassingly
wonderful, but also because he is altogether wonderful. There
have been some great feats of skill in the arts and sciences ;
for instance, if we take a common wonder of the day, the
telegraph — how much there is about that which is wonderful !
But there are a great many things in the telegraph that we
can understand. Though there are many mysteries in it, still
there are parts of it that are like keys to the mysteries, so that
if we can not solve the riddle wholly, yet it is disrobed of
some of the low garments of its mystery. But now if you
look at Christ any how, any where, any way, he is all mys-
24 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL.
tery ; he is altogether wonderful, always to be looked at and
always to be admired.
And again, he is universally wondered at. They tell us that
the religion of Christ is very good for old women. I was
once complimented by a person, who told me he believed my
preaching would be extremely suitable for blacks — for negroes.
He did not intend it as a compliment, but I replied, " Well,
sir, if it was suitable for blacks, I should think it would be
very suitable for whites ; for there is only a little diiference
of skin, and I do not preach to people's skins, but to their
hearts." Now, of Christ we can say, that he is universally a
wonder ; the strongest intellects have wondered at him. Our
Lookes and our Newtons have felt themselves to be as little
children when they have come to the foot of the cross. The
wonder has not been confined to ladies, to children, to old
women and dying men ; the highest intellects, and the loftiest
minds have all wondered at Christ. I am sure it is a difficult
task to make some people wonder. Hard thinkers and close
mathematicians are not easily brought to wonder ; but such
men have covered their faces with their hands and cast them-
selves in the dust, Snd confessed that they have been lost in
wonder and amazement. Well then may Christ be called
Wonderful.
H. " His name shall be called Wonderful." He is wonderful
for WHAT HE IS IN THE PRESEifT. And here I will not diverge,
but will just appeal to you personally. Is he wonderful to yoxi, f
Let me tell the story of my own wonderment at Christ, and
in telling it, I shall be telling the experience of all God's chil-
dren. There was a time when I wondered not at Christ. I
heard of his beauties, but I had never seen them ; I heard of
his power, but it was nought to me ; it was but news of some-
thing done in a far country — I had no connection with it, and
therefore I observed it not. But once upon a time, there
came one to my house of a black and terrible aspect. He
smote the door ; I tried to bolt it, to hold it fast. He smote
again and again, till at last he entered, and with a rough voice
he summoned me before him ; and he said, " I have a message
from God for thee ; thou art condemned on account of thy
HIS NAME WONDEBFUL. 25
sins." I looked at him with astonishment ; I asked him his
name. He said, " My name is the Law ;" and I fell at his
feet as one that was dead. " I was alive without the law
once ; but when the commandment came, sin revived, and I
died." As I lay there, he smote me. He smote me till every
rib seemed as if it must break, and the bowels be poured forth.
My heart was melted like wax within me ; I seemed to be
stretched upon a rack — to be pinched with hot irons — to be
beaten mth whips of burning wire. A misery extreme dwelt
and reigned in my heart. I dared not Hft up mine eyes, but I
thought within myself, "There may be hope, there may be
mercy for me. Perhaps the God whom I have offended may
accept my tears, and my promises of amendment, and I may
live." But when that thought crossed me, heavier were the
blows and more poignant my sufferings than before, till hope
entirely failed me, and I had nought wherein to trust. Dark-
ness black and dense gathered around me ; I heard a voice as
it were, of rushing to and fro, and of waiUng and gnashing of
teeth. I said within ray soul,' " I am cast out from his sight,
I am utterly abhorred of God ; he hath trampled me in the
mire of the streets in his anger." And there came one by of
sorrowful but of loving aspect, and he stooped over me, and
be said, " Awake thou that sleepest, and arise from the dead,
and Christ shall give thee light." I arose in astonishment,
and he took me, and he led me to a place where stood a cross,
and he seemed to vanish from my sight. But he appeared
again hanging there. I looked upon him as he bled upon that
tree. His eyes darted a glance of love unutterable into my
spirit, and in a moment, looking at him, the bruises that my
soul had suffered were healed ; the gaping wounds were
cured ; the broken bones rejoiced ; the rags that had covered
me were all removed ; ray spirit was white as the spotless
snows of the fiir off North ; I had melody within my spirit, for
I was saved, washed, cleansed, forgiven, through him tliat did
bang upon the tree. Oh, how I wondered that I should be
pardoned I It was not the pardon that I wondered at so
much ; the wonder was that it should come to me. I won-
dered that he should be able to pardon such sins as mine, such
26 HIS NAME — WONDEEPFL.
crimes, so numerous and so black, and that after such an ac-
cusing conscience he should have power to still every wave
within my spirit, and make my soul like the surface of a river,
undisturbed, quiet, and at ease. His name then to my spirit
was Wonderful. But, brethren and sisters, if you have felt
this, you can say you thought him wonderful then — if you are
feeling it, a sense of adoring wonder enraptures your heart
even now.
And has he not been wonderful to you since that auspicious
hour when first you heard Mercy's voice spoken to you?
How often have you been in sadness, sickness, and sorrow !
But your pain has been light, for Jesus Christ has been w^th
you on your sick-beds ; your care has been no care at all, for
you have been able to cast your burden upon him. The trial
which threatened to crush you, rather lifted you up to heaven,
and you have said, " How wonderful that Jesus Christ's name
should give me such comfort, such 'joy, such peace, such confi-
dence." Various things bring to my recollection a period now
removed by the space of nearly two years. Never shall we
forget, beloved, the judgments of the Lord, when by terrible
things in righteousness he answered our prayer that he would
give us success in this house. We can not forget how the peo-
ple were scattered — how some of the sheep were slain, and the
shepherd himself was smitten. I may not have told in your
hearing the story of my own woe. Perhaps never soul went so
near the burning furnace of insanity, and yet came away un-
harmed. I have Avalked by that fire until these locks seemed to
be crisp with the heat thereof. My brain was racked. I dared
not look up to God, and prayer that was once my solace, was
the cause of my aifright and terror, if I attempted it. I shall
never forget the time when I first became restored to myself.
It was in the garden of a friend. I was walking solitary and
alone, musing upon ray misery, much cheered as that was by
the kindness of my loving friend, yet far too heavy for my soul
to bear, when on a sudden the name of Jesus flashed through
my mind. The person of Christ seemed visible to me. I
stood still. The burning lava of my soul was cooled. My
agonies were hushed. I bowed myself there, and the garden
HIS KAME — ^WO^NDEErUL. 27
that had seemed a Gethsemane becarae to rae a Paradise.
And then it seemed so strange to me thut nought should have
brought me back but that name of Jesus. I thouglit indeed
at that time that I should love him better all the days of my
life. But there were two things I wondered at. I wondered
that he should be so good to me, and I wondered more that
I should have been so ungrateful to him. But his name has
been from that time " Wonderful" to me, and I must record
what he has done for my soul.
And now, brothers and sisters, you shall all find, every day
of your life, whatever your trials and troubles, that he shall
always be made the more wonderful by them. He sends your
troubles to be like a black foil, to make the diamond of his
name, shine the brighter. You would never know the won-
ders of God if it were not that you find them out in the fur-
nace. " They that go down to the sea in ship^ that do busi-
ness in great waters, these see the works of the Lord, and his
wonders in the deep ;" and we shall never see the wonders
of God except in that deep; we must go into the deeps before
we know how wonderful are his power and his might to save.
I must not leave this point without one more remark.
There have been times when you and I have said of Christ,
" His name is wonderful indeed, for we have been by it trans-
ported entirely above the world, and carried upward to the
very gates of heaven itself." I pity you, beloved, if you do
not understand the rhapsody I am about to use. There are
moments when the Christian feels the charms of earth all
broken, and his wings are loosed, and he begins to fly ; and
up he soars, till he forgets earth's sorrows and leaves them far
behind ; and up he goes, till he forgets earth's joys, and leaves
them like the mountain tops far below, as when the eagle flies
to meet the sun ; and up, up, up he goes, with his Saviour full
before him almost in vision beatific. His heart is full of Christ ;
his soul beholds his Saviour, and the cloud that darkened his
view of the Saviour's face seems to be dispersed. At such
a time the Christian can sympathise with Paul. He says,
"Whether in the body or out of the body I can not tell — God
knoweth !" but I am, as it were, " caught up to the third hea^
28 HIS NAME — WONDERFUL.
ven." And how is this rapture produced ? By the music of
flute, harp, sackbut, psaltery, and all kinds of instruments ?
No. How then? By riches? By fame ? By wealth ? Ah,
no. By a strong mind ? By a lively disposition ? No. By
the name of Jesus. That one name is all suiEcient to lead the
Christian into heights of transport that verge upon the region
where the angels fly in cloudless day.
in. I have no more time to stay upon this point, although
the text is infinite, and one might preach upon it for ever. I
have only to notice that his name shall be called Wonderful
EN" THE FUTURE.
The day is come, the day of wrath, the day of fire. The
ages are ended ; the last century, like the last pillar of a di-
lapidated temple, has crumbled to its fall. The clock o^ time
is verging to its last hour. It is on the stroke. The time is
come when the things that are made must disappear. Lo, I
see earth's bowels moving. A thousand hillocks give up the
slumbering dead. The battle fields are clothed no more with
the rich harvests that have been manured with blood ; but a
new harvest has sprung up. The fields are thick with men.
The sea itself becomes a prolific mother, and though she hath
swallowed men alive, she gives them up again, and they stand
before God, an exceeding great army. Sinners ! ye have liseu
from your tombs ; the pillars of heaven are reeling ; the sky
is moving to and fro ; the sun, the eye of this great world, is
rolling like a maniac's, and glaring with dismay. The moon
that long has cheered the night now makes the darkness ter-
rible, for she is turned into a clot of blood. Portents, and
signs, and wonders past imagination, make the heavens shake,
and make men's hearts quail within them. Suddenly upon a
cloud there comes one like unto the Son of Man. Sinners !
picture your astonishment and your wonder when you see him.
Where art thou, Voltaire ? Thou saidst, " I will crush the
wretch." Come and crush him now ! " Nay," saith Voltaire,
"he is not the man I thought he was." Oh how will he won-
der when he finds out what Christ is ! Now, Judas, come and
give him a traitor's kiss ! " Ah ! nay," says he, " I knew not
what I kissed ; I thought I kissed only the son of Mary, but
HIS NAME — ^WONDERFUL. 29
lo ! he is the everlasting God." Now, ye kings and princes,
that stood up and took counsel together against the Lord and
against his anointed, saying, "Let us break his bands asunder,
and cast his cords from us !" come now ; take counsel once
more ; rebel against him now ! Oh ! can ye picture the
astonishment, the wonder, the dismay, when careless, godless
infidels and Socinians find out what Christ is ? " Oh !" they
will say, " this is wonderful ; I thought not he was such as
this ;" while Christ shall say to them, " Thou thoughtest that
I was altogether such as yourselves ; but I am no such thhig ;
I am come in all my Father's glory to judge the quick and
dead."
Pharaoh led his hosts into the midst of the Red Sea. The
path was dry and shingly, and on either shore stood, like a wall
of alabaster, the clear white water, stiff as with the breath of
frost, consolidated into marble. There it stood. Can ye guess
the astonishment and dismay of the hosts of Pharaoh when
they saw those walls of water about to close upon them ?
" Behold, ye despisers, and wonder, and perish !" Such will
be- your astonishment when Christ, whom ye have despised
to-day — Chi-ist, whom ye would not have to be your Saviour
— Christ, whose Bible ye left unread, whose Sabbath ye de-
spised — Christ, whose gospel ye rejected, shall come in the
glory of his Father, and all his holy angels with him. Ay,
then indeed will ye "behold, and wonder, and perish," and
shall say, " His name is Wonderful."
But perhaps the most wonderful part of the day of judg-
ment is this : do you see all the horrors yonder — the black
darkness, the horrid night, the clashing comets, the pale stars,
sickly and wan, falling like figs from the fig-tree ? Do you
hear the cry, " Rocks, hide us, mountains, on us fall ?" " Every
battle of the warrior is with confused noise ;" but there never
was a battle like this. This is with fire and smoke indeed.
But do yc see yonder ? All is peaceful, all serene and quiet.
The myriads of the redeemed, are they shrieking, crying,
wailing ? No ; see them I They are gathering — gathering
round the throne. That very throne that seems to scatter, as
with a hundred hands, death and destruction on the wicked,
80 HIS NAME WONDERFUL.
becomes the sun of light and happiness to all "believers. Do
you see them coming, robed in white, with their bright wings,
while gathering round him they vail their faces ? Do you hear
them cry, *' Holy, holy, holy Lord God of hosts, for thou wast
slain, and thou hast risen from the dead ; worthy ait thou to
live and reign, when death itself is dead ?" Do ye hear them ?
It is all song, and no shriek. Do ye see them ? It is all joy,
and no terror. His name to them is Wonderful ; but it is the
wonder of admiration, the wonder of ecstasy, the wonder of
affection, and not the wonder of horror and dismay. Saints
of the Lord ! ye shall know the wonders of his name, when
ye shall see him as he is, and shall be like him in the day of
his appearing. Oh ! my enraptured spirit, thou shalt bear thy
part in thy Redeemer's triumph, unworthy though thou art,
the chief of sinners, and less than the least of saints. Thine
eye shall see him and not another ; " I know that my Re-
deemer liveth, and when he shall stand in the latter day upon
the earth, though worms devour this body, yet in my flesh
shall I see God." Oh ! make yourselves ready, ye virgins I
Behold the bridegroom cometh. Arise and trim your lamps,
and go ye out to meet him. He comesr— he comes — ^he comes !
and when he comes, you shall well say of him, as you meet
him with joy, " Thy name is called Wonderful. All haU ! all
hail! all hail!"
SERMON II.
HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR.
" For unto na a child is born, unto us a son is given : and the government
shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called 'Wonderful, Coun-
selor." — ISATAH, ix. 6.
Last Sabbath morning we considered the first title, " His
name shall be called Wonderful :" this morning we take the
second word, " Counselor." I need not repeat the remark,
that of course these titles belong only to the Lord Jesus
Christ, and that we can not understand the passage except by
referring it to Messiah — the Prince. It was by a Counselor
that this world was ruined. Did not Satan mask himself in
the serpent, and counsel the woman with exceeding craftiness,
that she should take unto herself of the fi uit of the tree of
knowledge of good and evil, in the hope that tliereby she
should be as God ? "Was it not that evil counsel which pro-
voked our mother to rebel against her Maker, and did it not,
as the effect of sin, bring death into this world with all its
train of woe ? Ah ! beloved, it was meet that this world
should have a Counselor to restore it, if it had a Counselor
to destroy it. It was by counsel that it fell, and certainly
without counsel it never could have arisen. But mark the
difficulties that surrounded such a Counselor. 'Tis easy to
counsel mischief; but how hard to counsel wisely ! To cast
down is easy, but to build up, how hard ! To confuse this
world, and bring upon it all its train of ills was an easy thing ;
a woman plucked the fruit and it was done. But to restore
order to this confusion, to sweep away the evils which brood-
ed over this fair earth, this was work indeed, and '* Wonder-
ful" was tliat Christ who came forward to attempt the work,
and who in the plenitude of his wisdom hath certainly accom-
32 HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR.
plished it, to his own honor and glory, and to our comfort and
safety.
We shall now enter upon the discussion of this title which
is given to Christ, a title peculiar to our Redeemer ; and you
will see why it should be given to him, and why there was a
necessity for such a Counselor.
INi ow, our Lord Jesus Christ is a Counselor in a threefold
sense. First, he is GocVs Counselor ; he sits in the cabinet
council of the King of heaven ; he has admittance into the
privy chamber, and is the Counselor with God. In the sec
ond place, Christ is a Counselor in the sense which the Sep-
tuagint translation appends to this term. Christ is said to be
the angel of the great council. He is a Counselor in that he
communicates to us, in God's behalf, what has been done in
the great council before the foundation of the world. And
thirdly, Christ is a Counselor to us and with us, because we
can consult with him, and he doth counsel and advise us as to
the right way and the path of peace.
I. Beginning, then, with the first point, Christ may well be
called Counselor, for he is a Counselor with God. And
here let us speak with reverence, for we are about to enter
upon a very solemn subject. It hath been revealed to us that
before the world was, when as yet God had not made the
stars, long ere space sprang into being, the Almighty God did
hold a solemn conclave with himself; Father, Son and Spirit
held a mystic council with each other, as to what they were
about to do. That council, although we read but little of it
in Scripture, was nevertheless most certainly held ; we have
abundant traces of it, for though it is a doctrine obscure
through the eifulgence of that light to which no man can ap-
proach, and not simply and didactically explained, as some
other doctrines are, yet we have continual tracings and inci-
dental mentionings of that great, eternal, and wonderful coun-
cil which was held between the three glorious persons of the
Trinity before the world began. Our first question with our-
selves is, why did God hold a council at all ? And here, we
must answer, that God did not hold a council because of any
deficiency in his knowledge, for God understandeth all things
HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 83
from the beginning ; his knowledge is the sum total of every-
thing that is noble, and infinite is that sura total, infinitely
above every thing that is counted noble by us. Thou, O God,
hast thoughts that are unsearchable, and thou knowest what
no mortal ken can ever attain unto. Nor, again, did God
hold any consultation for the increase of his satisfaction.
Sometimes men, when they have determined what to do, will
nevertheless seek counsel of their friends, because they say,
" If their advice agrees with mine it adds to my satisfaction,
and confirms me in my resolution." But God is everlastingly
satisfied with himself, and knoweth not the shadow of a doubt
to cloud his purpose ; therefore, the council was not held with
any motive or intent of that sort. Nor, again, was it held
with a view of dehberation. Men take weeks and months and
sometimes years, to think out a thing that is surrounded with
difficulties ; they have to find the clue with much research ;
enveloped in folds of mystery, they have to take off first one
garment and then another, before they find out the naked, glo-
rious truth. Not so God. God's deliberations are as flashes
of lightning ; they are as wise as if he had been eternally con-
sidering, but the thoughts of his heart, though swift as light-
ning, are as perfect as the whole system of the universe. The
reason why God is represented as holding a council, if I think
rightly, is this : that we might understand how wise God is.
" In the multitude of counselors there is wisdom." It is for
us to think that in the council of the Eternal Three, each per-
son in the undivided Trinity being omniscient and full of wis-
dom, there must have been the sum total of all wisdom. And
again, it was to show the unanimity and cooperation of the
sacred persons : God the Father hath done nothing alone in
creation or salvation. Jesus Christ hath done nothing alone ;
for even the work of his redemption, albeit that he suffered in
some sense alone, needed the sustaining hand of the Spirit, and
the accepting smile of the Father, before it could be comjjlet-
ed. God said not, " I will make man," but " let us make man
in our own image." God saith not merely, " I will save," but
the inference from the declaration of Scripture is, that the de-
sign of the three persons of the blesso4 Trinity was to save a
2*
34 HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOE.
people to themselves, who should show forth their praise. It
was, then, for our sakes, not for God's sake, the council was
held — that we might know the unanimity of the glorious per-
sons, and the deep wisdom of their devices.
Yet another remark concerning the council. It may be
asked, " What were the topics deliberated upon at that first
council, which was held before the day-star knew its place,
and planets ran their round ?" We reply, " The first topic
was creation." We are told in the passage We have read
(Proverbs viii.), that the Lord Jesus Christ, who represents
himself as Wisdom, was with God before the w^orld was cre-
ated, and we have every reason to believe that we are to un-
derstand this as meaning, that he not only was with God in
company, but with God in cooperation. Besides, we have
other Scriptures to prove that " all things were made by him,
and without him was not any thing made that was made."
And to quote yet another passage that clinches this truth.
God said, " Let us make mmi y" so that a part of the consul-
tation was with reference to the making of worlds, and the
creatures that should inhabit them. I believe that in the sov-
ereign council of eternity, the mountains were weighed in
scales, and the hills in balance ; then was it fixed in sovereign
council how far the sea should go, and where should be its
bounds — when the sun shall arise and come forth, like a giant
fi'om the chambers of his darkness, and when he should return
again to his couch of rest. Then did God decree the moment
when he should say, " Let there be light," and the moment
w:hen the sun should be turned into darkness, and the moon
into a clot of blood. Then did he ordain the form and size
of every angel, and the destinies of every creature ; then did
he sketch in his infinite thought, the eagle as he soared to
heaven, and the worm as he burrowed into the earth. Then
the little as well as the great, the minute as well as the im-
mense, came under the sovereign decree of God. There was
that book written, of which Dr. Watts sings —
" Chained to his throne a volume lies,
With all the fates of men,
With every angel's form and size,
Prawn by th' ethereal pen."
HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 35
Christ was a Counselor in the matter of creation ; with none
else took he counsel ; none else instructed him. Christ was
the Counselor for all the wondrous works of God.
The second topic that was discussed in this council was the
%cork of providence. God does not act towards this world
like a man who makes a watch, and lets it have its own way-
till it runs down ; he is the controller of every wheel in the
machine of providence. He has left nothing to itself. We
talk of general laws, and philosophers tell us that the world is
governed by laws, and then they put the Almighty out of the
question. Now, how can a nation be governed by laws apart
from a sovereign, or apart from i^agistrates and rulers to carry
out the laws ? All the laws may be in the statute book, but
put all the police away, take away every magistrate, remove
the high court of Parliament, what is the use of laws ? Laws
can not govern without active agency to carry them out ; nor
could nature proceed in its everlasting cycles by the mere
force of law. God is the great motive power of all things;
he is in every thing. Not only did he make all things, but
by him all things consist. From all eternity, Christ was the
Counselor of his Father with regard to providence ; when the
first man should be born, when he should wander, aiid when
he should be restored ; when the first monarchy should rise,
and when its sun should set ; where his people should be
placed, how long they should be placed, and where they
should be moved. Was it not the Most High who divided
to the nations their inheritance ? Hath he not appointed the
bounds of our habitation ? Oh ! heir of heaven, in the day of
the great council, Christ counseled his Father as to the weight
of thy trials, as to the number of thy mercies, if they be num-
erable, and as to the time, the way, and the means whereby
thou shouldst be brought to himself. Remember, there is
nothing that happens in your daily life, but what was first of
all devised in eternity, and counseled by Jesus Christ for your
good and in your behalf, that' all things might work together
for your lasting benefit and profit. But, my friends, what ini-
fathomable depths of wisdom must have been involved, when
God consulted with himself with regard to the great book of
36 HIS NAME THE COUNSELOE.
providence ! Oh, how strange providence seems to you and
to me ! Does it not look like a zig-zag line, this way and that
way, backward and forward, hke the journeyings of the chil-.
dren of Israel in the wilderness ? Ah ! my brethren, but to God
it is a straight line. Directly, God always goes to his object ;
and yet to us he often seems to go round about. Ah ! Jacob,
the Lord is about to provide for thee in Egypt, when there is
a famine in Canaan, and he is about to make thy son Joseph
great and mighty. Joseph must be sold for a slave ; he must
be accused wrongfully; he must be put into the pit, and in
the round-house prison he must suffer. But God was going
straight to his purpose all the while : he was sending Joseph
before them into Egypt that they might be provided for, and
when the good old patriarch said, " All these things are against
me," he did not perceive the providence of God, for there
was not a solitary thing in the whole list that was against
him, but every thing was ruled for his weal. Let us learn to
leave providence in the hands of the Counselor ; let us rest
assured that he is too wise to err in his predestination, and too
good to be unkind, and that in the council of eternity, the best
was ordained that could have been ordained — that if you and
I had been there, we could not have ordained half so well, but
that we should have made ourselves eternal fools by meddling
therewith. Rest certain, that in the end we shall see that all
was well, and must be well for ever. He is "Wonderful, the
Counselor," for he counseled in matters of providence.
And now with regard to matters of grace. These were
also discussed in the everlasting council. When the Three
Divine Persons in the solemn seclusion of their own loneliness
consulted together with reference to the works of grace, one
of the first things they had to consider was, how God should
be just and yet the justifier of the ungodly — how the world
should be reconciled unto God. Hence you read in the book
of Zechariah, if you turn to the sixth chapter and the thirteenth
verse, this passage — " The council of peace shall be between
them both." The Son of God with his Father and the Spirit,
ordained the council of peace. Thus was it arranged. The
Son must suffer ; he must be the substitute, must bear his
HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 87
people's sins and be punished in their stead ; the Father must
accept the Son's substitution and allow his people to go free,
because Chiist had paid their debts. The Spirit of the living
God rhust then cleanse the people whom the blood had par-
doned, and so they must be accepted before the presence of
God, even the Father. That was the result of the great coun-
cil. But, O ray brethren, if it had not been for that council,
what a qjiestion would have been left unsolved ? Neither you
nor I could ever have thought how the two should meet to-
gether — how mercy and justice should kiss each other over
the mountain of our sins. I have always thought that one of
the greatest proo.Hs that the Gospel is of God, is its revelation
that Christ died to save sinners. That is a thought so original,
so new, so wonderful; you have not got it in any other reli-
gion in the world ; so that it must haye come from God. As
I remember to have heard an unschooled and illiterate man
say, when I first told him the simple story how Christ was
punished in the stead of his people : he burst out with an air
of surprise, " Faith ! that's the Gospel, I know ; no man could
have made that up ; that must be of God." That wonderful
thought, that a God himself should die, that he himself should
bear our sins, that so God the Father might be able to forgive
and yet exact the utmost penalty, is super-human, super-
angelic ; not even the cherubim and seraphim could have been
the inventors of it : but that thought was first struck out from
the mind of God in the councils of eternity, when the " Won-
derful, the Counselor," was present with his Father.
Again : another part of the great council was this — who
shall be saved ? Now, my friends, you that like not old Cal-
vinistic doctrine will perhaps be horrified, but that I can not
help ; I will never modify a doctrine I believe to please any
man that walks upon earth ; but I will prove from Scripture
that I have the warrant of God in this matter, and that it is
not my own invention. I say that one part of the council of
eternity was the predestination of those whom God had de-
termined to save, and I will read you the passage that proves
it. " In whom also we have obtained an inheritance, being
predestinated according to the purpose of him that worketh
38 HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR.
all things after the counsel of his own will." The predestina-
tion of every one of God's people was arranged at the eternal
council, where God's will sat as the sovereign umpire and un-
disputed president. There was it said of each redeemeti one,
" At such an hour I will call him by my grace, for I have loved
him with an everlasting love, and by my loving kindness will
I draw him." There was it originated when the peace-speak-
ing blood shall be laid to that elect one's conscience, when the
Spirit of the living God shall breathe joy and consolation into
his heart. There was it settled how that chosen one should
be " kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ;"
and there was it determined and settled by two immutable
things, wherein it is impossible for God to lie, that every one
of these should be eternally saved, beyond the shadow of a
risk of perishing. The Apostle Paul was not like some
preachers, who are afraid to say a word about the everlasting
council; for he says in his epistle to the Hebrews — "God
willing more abundantly to show unto the heirs of promise
the immutability of his council, confirmed it by an oath."
Now, you hear some talk about the immutability of the prorn-
ise : that is good. But the immutability of God's counsel —
that is to fithom to the very uttermost the doctrines of gmce.
The council of God from all eternity is immutable ; not one
purpose has he ever altered, not one decree has he ever
changed ; he has nailed his decrees against the pillars of eter-
nity, and though the devils have sought to rend them down
from the posts of his magnificent palace, yet, saith he, " have
I set my king upon my holy hill of Zion ;" the decree shall
stand ; I will do all my pleasure. Thy counsels of old are
faithfulness and truth ; thou. Lord, in the beginning hast made
the heavens and laid the foundations of the earth ; thou hast
determined thy plans and purposes, and they stand fast for
ever and ever.
I think I have sufficiently declared how Christ was the
Counselor, in the transcendent aJffairs of nature, Providence,
and grace, in the everlasting council-chamber of eternity. But
now I would have you notice what a mercy it was that th'ere
was such a counselor with God, and how fit Christ was to be
HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOE. 39
the Counselor. Christ himself is wisdom. He chargeth his
angels with folly ; but he is God only wise himself. If a fool
undertake to be a counselor, his counsel is folly ; but when
Christ counseled, his counsel was full of wisdom. But there
is another qualification necessary for a counselor. However
wise a man be, he has no right to be a counselor with a king^
unless he has some dignity and standing. There may happen
to be in my congregation some person of great talent ; but if
my friend should present himself at the cabinet council and
give his advice, he would most probably be unceremoniously
dismissed, for they would say, " Art thou of the king's coun-
cil ; if not, what right hast thou to stand here ?" Now Christ
was glorious ; he was equal with his Father, therefore he had
a right to counsel God — to counsel with God. Had an angel
offered his advice to God it would have been an insufferable
impertinence ; had the cherubim or seraphim volunteered to
give so much as one word of counsel it would have been blas-
phemy. He would take no counsel from his creatures. Why
should wisdom stoop from its throne, to counsel with created
folly? But because Christ was far above all principalities and
powers and every name that is named, therefore he had a
right, not only from his wisdom, but from his rank, to be a
Counselor with God. -
But there is one thing that is always necessary in a man,
before we can rejoice in his being a counselor. There are
some counselors concerning the legislation of our country in
whom you or I could not rejoice much, because we feel that in
their counsels the most of us would be forgotten. Our farm-
ing friends would probably rejoice in them ; they will consult
their interest, there is not much doubt ; but whoever heard
of a counselor yet who counseled for the poor ? or who has
these many years heard so much as an inkling of the name of
a man who really counseled for economy and for the good of
his nation ? We have plenty of men who i^roraise us that they
will counsel for us — abundance of men who, if we would but
return them to Parliament, would most assuredly pour forth
such wisdom in our behalf that without doubt we should be
the most happy and enlighteneul people in the world according
40 HIS NAME — THE COUlSrSELOE.
to their promise ; but alas ! when they get into office they
have no hearty sympathy with us ; they belong to a different
rank from the most of us, they do not sympathize with the
wants and the desires of the middle class and of the poor.
But, with regard to Christ, we can put every confidence in
him, for we know that in that council from eternity he sympa-
thized with man. He says, " My delights were with the sons
of men." Happy men to have a counselor who delights in
them ! Moreover, he then, though he was not man, yet fore-
saw that he was to be " bone of our bone and flesh of our
flesh," and therefore in the counsels of eternity he pleaded his
own cause when he pleaded our cause, for he well knew that
he was to be tempted in all points like as we are, and was to
sufibr our sufierings and to be our covenant head in union with
ourselves. Sweet Counselor ! I love to think thou wast in
the everlasting council, my friend, my brother born for ad-
versity !
n. Having thus discussed the first point, I shall proceed to
consider briefly the second, according to the translation of
the Septuagint. Christ is the angel of the geeat couxcil.
Do you and I want to know what was said and done in the
great council of eternity ? Yes, we do. I will defy any man,
whoever he may be, not to want to know something about
destiny. What means the ignorance of the common people,
when they appeal to the witch, the pretender ? when they
inquire of the astrologer, and read the book of the pretended
soothsayer ? Why it means that man wants to know some-
thing about the everlasting council. And what mean all the
perplexing researches of certain persons into the prophecies ?
I consider very often that the inferences drawn from prophecy
are very little better, after all, than the guesses of the Nor-
wood gipsey, and that some people, who have been so busy in
foretelling the end of the world, would have been better em-
ployed if they had foretold the end of their own books, and
had not imposed on the public by predictions, assaying to in-
terpret the prophecies, without the shadow of a foundation.
But from their credulity we may learn that among the higher •
class as well as among the mov'e ignorant, there is a strong
HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 41
desire to know the councils of eternity. Beloved, there is
only one glass through which you and I can look back to the
dim darkness of the shronded past, and read the counsels of
God, and that glass is the person of Jesus Christ. Do I want
to know what God ordained with regard to the salvation of
man fi-om before the foundation of the world? I look to
Christ ; I find that it was ordained in Christ that he should be
the first elect, and that a people should be chosen in him. Do
you ask the way in which God ordained to save ? I answer,
he ordained to save by the cross. Do you ask how God
ordained to pardon ? The answer comes, he ordained to
pardon through the sufferings of Christ, and to justify through
his resurrection from the dead. Every thing that you want
to know with regard to what God ordained, every thing that
you ought to know, you can find out in the person of Jesus
Christ. And again, do I long to know the great secret of
destiny? I must look to Christ. What mean these wars,
this confusion, these garments rolled in blood ? I see Christ
born of a virgin, and then I read the world's history back-
wards, and I see that all this led to Christ's coming. I see
that all these leaned one upon another, as I have sometimes
seen clusters of rocks leaning on each other, and Christ the
great leading rock bearing up the superincumbent mass of
all past history. And if I want to read the future I look at
Christ, and I learn that he who has gone up to heaven, is to
come again from heaven in like manner as he went up to
heaven. So all the future is clear enough to me. I do not
know whether the Pope of Rome is to obtain universal empire
or not ; I do not mind whether the Russian empire is to swal-
low up all the nations of the continent ; there is one thing I
know ; God will overturn, overturn, overturn, till he shall
come whose right it is to reign ; and I know that though the
worms devour my body, yet when he shall stand in the latter
day upon the earth, in my flesh shall I see God, and* there is
enough in that for me. All the rest of history is unimportant
compared with its end, its issues, its purpose. The end of the
first Testament is the first advent of Christ ; the end of this
second Testament of modern history is the second advent of
42 HIS NAME THE COUNSELOR.
the Saviour ; and then shall the book of time be closed. But
none could open the Old Testament history and make it out,
except through Christ. Abraham could understand it, for he
knew that Christ was to come ; Christ opened the book for
him. And so modern history is never to be understood except
through Christ. None but the Lamb can take the book and
open every seal ; but he who believeth in Christ and looks for
his glorious advent, he may open the book and read therein,
and have understanding, for in Christ there is a revelation of
the eternal councils.
"N"ow," says one, " sir, I want to know one thing, and if I
knew that, I would not care what happened. I want to know
whether God from all eternity ordained me to be saved."
Well, friend, I will tell you how to find that out, and you may
find it out to a certainty. " I^ay," says one, " but how can I
know that ? You can not read the book of fate ; that is im-
possible." I have heard of some divine, of a very hyper
school hideed, who said, " Ah ! blessed be the Lord, there are
some of God's dear people here ; I can tell them by the very
look of their faces ; I know that they are among God's elect."
He was not half so discreet as Rowland Hill, who, when he
was advised to preach to none but the elect, said, " He would
certainly do so if some one would chalk them all on the back
first." That was never attempted by anybody ; so Rowland
Hill went on preaching the gospel to every creature, as I de-
sire to do. But you may find out whether you are among his
chosen ones, " How ?" says one. Why, Christ is the angel
of the covenant, and you can find it out by looking to him.
Many people want to knovv their election before they look to
Christ. Beloved, you can not know your election, except as
you see it in Christ. If you want to know your election,
thus shall you assure your hearts before God. Do you feel
yourself this morning to be a lost, guilty sinner ? go straight-
way to fhe cross of Christ, and tell Christ that, and tell him
that you have read in the Bible " That him that cometh unto
him he will in no wise cast out." Tell him that he has said,
"This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that
Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom
HIS NAME — ^THE COUNSELOR. 43
you are chief." Look to Christ and believe on hira, and you
shall make proof of your election directly, for so surely as
thou believest thou art elect. If thou wilt give thyself wholly
up to Christ and trust him, then thou art one of God's chosen
ones ; but if you stop and say, " I want to know first whether
I am elect," that is impossible. If there be something cov-
ered up, and I say, " Now before you can see this you must
lift the vail ;" and you say, " Nay, but I want to see right
through the vail," you can not. Lift the vail first, and you
shall see. Go to Christ, guilty, just as you are. Leave all
curious inquiry about thy election alone. Go straight away
to Christ, just as you are, black, naked, penniless and poor,
and say,
" Nothing in my hands I bring,
Siniply to thy cross I cling,"
and you shall know your election. The assurance of the Holy
Spirit sl^U be given to you, so that you shall be able to say,
'* I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded that he
is able to keep that which I have committed to him." Now,
do notice this. Christ was at the everlasting council : he can
tell you whether you were chosen or not ; but you can not
find that out any how else. You go and put your trust in
hira and I know what the answer will be. His answer will be
— " I have loved thee with an everlasting love, therefore in
loving kindness have I drawn thee." There will be no doubt
about his having chosen you^ when you shall feel no doubt
about having chosen him.
So much for the second point. Christ is a Counselor. He
is the angel of the council, because he tells out God's secrets to
us. " The secret of the Lord is with them that fear him, and
he will show them his covenant."
HI. The last point was, Christ is a Counselor to us. And
here I shall want to give some practical hints to God's people.
Some how or other, brethren, it is not good for man to be
alone. A lonely man must be, I think, a miserable man ; and
a man without a Counselor, I think, must of necessity go
wrong. " Where there is no counselor," says Solomon, '* the
people fall." I think most persons will find it so. A man says,
44 HIS NAME — ^THE COXHSTSELOB.
" Well, I'll have my own way, and I will ask nobody." Have
it, sir — have it — and you will find that in having your own
way you have probably had the worst way you could. We
all feel our need at times of a counselor. David was a man
after God's own heart and dealt much with his God ; but he
had his Ahithophel, with whom he took sweet counsel, and
they walked to the house of God in company. Kings must
have some advisers. Woe unto the man that hath got a bad
counselor. Rehoboam took counsel of the young men, and
not of the old men, and they counseled him so that he lost
ten-twelfths of his empire. Some take counsel of stocks and
stones. We know many who counsel at the hands of fooHsh
charms, instead of going to Christ. They shall have to learn
that there is but one Christ who is to be trusted ; and that
however necessary a counselor may be, yet none other shall
be found to fulfill the necessity, but Jesus Christ the Counsel-
or. Let me make a remark or two with regard to this Coun-
selor, Jesus Christ. *
And, first, Christ is a necessary Counselor. So sure as we
do any thing without asking counsel of God we fall into trouble.
Israel made a league with Gibeon, and it is said, they took of
their victuals, and they asked not counsel at the mouth of the
Lord, and they found out that the Gibeonites had deceived
them. If they had asked counsel first, no cunning deception
could have imposed on them in the matter. Saul, the son of
Kish, died before the Lord upon the mountains of Gilboa, and
in the book of Chronicles it is written, he died because he
asked not counsel of God, but sought unto the wizards.
Joshua, the great commander, when he was appointed to sug-
ceed Moses, w^as not left to go alone, but it is written, " And
Eliezer the priest shall be his counselor, and he shall ask coun-
sel of the Lord for him." And all the great men of olden
times, when they were about to do an action, paused, and they
said to the priest, " Bring hither the ephod," and he put on
the Urim and the Thummim, and appealed to God and the
answer came, and sound advice was vouchsafed. You and I
will have to learn how necessary it is always to take advice of
God. Did you ever seek God's advice on your knees about a
HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR. 45
difficulty and then go amiss ? Brethren, I can testify for my
God that when I have submitted my will to his directing
Spirit, I have always had reason to thank him for his wise
counsel. But when I have asked at his hands, having already
made up my own mind, I have had my own way ; but like as
he fed the Israelites with the quails of heaven — while the meat
w^as yet in their mouth, the wrath of God came upon them.
Let us take heed always that we never go before the cloud.
He that goes before the cloud goes a fool's errand, and will
be glad to get back again. An old Puritan used to say, " He
that carves for himself will cut his fingers. Leave God to
carve for you in providence, and all shall be well. Seek God's
guidance and nothing can go amiss." It is necessary counsel.
In the next place, Christ's counsel \^ faithful counsel. When
Ahithophel lell David, it proved that he was not faithful, and
when Hushai went to Absalom and counseled him, he coun-
seled him craftily, so that the good counsel of Ahithophel was
brought to nouerht. Ah ! how often do our friends counsel us
craftily ! We have known them to do so. They have looked
first to their own advantage, and then they have said, " If I
can get him to do so-and-so it will be the best for me." That
was not the question we asked them. It was what would be
best for ourselves. But we may trust Christ, that in his ad-
vice to us there never can be any self interest. He will be
quite certain to advise us with the most disinterested motives,
so that the good shall be to us, and the profit to ouf selves.
Again, Christ's counsel is hearty counsel. I hate to go to a
lawyer above all people, to talk with him upon matters of
business. The worst kind of conversation is, I think, conver-
sation with a lawyer. There is your case ! Dear me, what
an interest you feel in it ! You spread it out before him, and
he says, " There is a word upon the second page not quite
correct." You look at it, and you say, " Ah I that is totally
unimportant; that does not signify." He turns to another
clause and he says, " Ah ! there is a good deal here !" " My
dear fellow," you say, *' I do not care about those petty clauses,
whether it says lands, properties, or hereditaments : what I
want you to do is to set this difficulty right in point of law."
40 HIS NAME — ^THE OOUNSELOK.
" Be patient," he says ; you must go through a great many
consultations before he will come to tlie point, and all the
while your poor heart is boiling over because you feel such an
interest in the main point. But he is as cool as possible ; you
think you are asking counsel of a block of marble. No doubt
his advice will come out all right at last, and it is pretty certain
it will be good for you ; but it is not hearty. He does not en-
ter into the sympathies of the matter with you. What is it
to him whether you succeed or not ? whether the object of
your heart shall be accomplished or not ? It is but a profes-
sional interest he takes. Now, Solomon says, "As ointment
for perfume, so is hearty counsel." When a man throws his
own soul into your case, and says, " My dear friend, I'll do
any thing I can to help you ; let me look at it," and he takes
as deep an interest in it as you do yourself. " If I were in
your position," he says, " I should do so-and-so ; by-the-bye,
there is a word wrong there." Perhaps he tells you so, but
he only tells you because he is anxious to have it all right ;
and you can see that his drift is always towards the same end
that you are seeking, and that he is only anxious for your
good. Oh ! for a Counselor that could tie your heart into
union with his own ! Now Christ is such a Counselor as that.
He is a hearty Counselor. His interests and your interests
are bound up together, and he is hearty with you.
But there is another kind of counsel still. David says of
one, who lifterwards became his enemy, "We took sweet
counsel together." Christian, do you know what sweet coun-
sel is ? You have gone to your Master in the day of trouble,
and in the secret of your chamber you have poured out your
heart before him. You have laid your case before him with
all its difficulties, as Hezekiah did Rabshakeh's letter, and
you have felt, that though Christ was not there in flesh and
blood, yet he was there in spirit, and he counseled you. You
felt that his was counsel that came from the veiy heart.
But he was something better than that. There was such a
sweetness coming with his counsel, such a radiance of love,
such a fullness of fellowship, that you said, " Oh that I were
in trouble every day, if I might have such sweet counsel as
HIS NA-ME — THE COUNSELOR. 47
this !" Christ is the Counselor whom I wish to consult every
hour, and I wish that I could sit in his secret chamber all day
and all night long, because to counsel with him is to have
sweet counsel, hearty counsel, and wise counsel all at the same
time. Why, you may have a friend that talks very sweetly
with you, and you will say, "Well, he is a kind, good soul,
but I really can not trust his judgment." You have another
friend, who has a good deal of judgment, and yet you say of
him, " Certainly, he is a man of prudence above a gieat many,
but I can not find out his sympathy ; I never get at his heart ;
if he was ever so rough and untutored, I w^ould sooner have
his heart without his prudence, than his prudence without his
heart." But we go to Christ, and we get wisdom ; w^e get
love, we get sympathy, we get every thing that can possibly
be wanted in a Counselor.
And now we must close by noticing that Christ has special
counsels for each of us this morning, and what are they?
Tried child of God, your daughter is sick; your gold has
melted in the fire ; you are sick yourself, and your heart is
sad. Christ counsels you, and he says, "Cast thy burden
upon the Lord, he will sustain you ; he will never sufier the
righteous to be moved." Young man, you that are seeking
to be great in this world, Christ counsels you this morning.
" Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek them not." I
shall never forget Midsummer common. I was ambitious ; I
was seeking to go to college, to leave my poor people in the
"wilderness that I might become something great; and as I
was walking there, that text came with power to my heart —
" Seekest thou great things for thyself? seek them not." I
suppose about forty pounds a year was the sum total of ray
income, a»d I was thinking how I should make both ends
meet, and whether it would not be a great deal better for me
to resign my charge and seek something for the bettering of
myself, and so forth. But this text rang in my ears, " Seekest
thou great things for thyself? seek them not." "Lord," said
I, " I will follow thy counsel and not my own devices ;" and
I have never had cause to regret it. Always take the Lord
for thy guide, and thou shalt never go amiss. Backslider I
48^ HIS NAME — THE COUNSELOR.
thou that hast a name to live, and art dead, or nearly dead,
Christ gives thee counsel. "I counsel thee to buy of me,
gold tried in the fire and white raiment, that thou mayest be
clothed." And sinner ! thou that art far from God, Christ gives
thee counsel. " Come unto me, all ye that are weary and
heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Depend on it, it is
loving counsel. Take it. Go home and cast youself upon
your knees. Seek Christ; obey his counsel, and you shall
have to rejoice that you ever listened to his voice, and heard
it, and lived.
SERMON III.
"AS THT DAYS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE."
"As thy days, so shall thy strength be." — ^Deut., xxxiii. 25.
Beloved, it seems a sad thing that every day must die and
be followed by a night. When we have seen the hills clad
with verdure to their summit, and the seas laving their base
with a silver glory ; when we have stretched our eye far away,
and have seen the widening prospect full of loveliness and
beauty, we have felt sad that the sunlight should ever set upon
such a scene, and that so much beauty should be shrouded in
the oblivion of darkness. But how much reason have we to
bless God for nights ! for if it were not for nights how much
of beauty never would be discovered. Never should I have
considered the heavens, the work of thy fingers, O my God,
if thou hadst not first covered the sun with a thick mantle of
darkness : the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained,
had never been bright in mine eyes, if thou hadst not hidden
the light of the sun and bidden him retire within the curtains
of the west. Kight seems to be the great friend of the stars :
they must be all unseen by eyes of men, were they not set in
the foil of darkness. It is even so with winter. We might
feel sad, that all the flowers of summer must dic,.and all the
fruits of autumn must be gathered into' their storehouse, that
every tree must be stripped, and that all the fields must lose
their fair flowers. But were it not for winter we should never
see the glistening crystals of the snow ; we should never be-
hold the beauteous festoons of the icicles that hang from the
eaves. Much of God's marvelous miracles of hoar frost must
have been hidden from us, if it had not been for the cold chill
of winter, which, when it robs us of one beauty, gives us
another — when it takes away the emerald of verdure, it gives
60 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be."
us the diamond of ice — when it casts from us the bright rubies
of the flowers, it gives us the fair, white ermine of snow.
Well now, translate these two ideas, and you will see why it
is that even our sin, our lost and ruined estate, has been made
the means, in the hand of God, of manifesting to' us the ex-
cellences of his character. My dear friends, if you and I had
been without trouble, we never could have had such a promise
as this given to us : — " As thy days, so shall thy strength be'."
It is our weakness that has made room for God to give us such
a promise as this. Our sins make room lor a Saviour ; our
frailties make room for the Holy Spirit to correct them ; all
our wanderings make room for the good Shepherd, that he
may seek us and bring us back. We do not love nights, but
we do love stars ; we do not love weakness, but we do bless
God for the promise that is to sustain us in our weakness ; we
do not admire winter, but we do admire the glittering snow ;
we must shudder at our own trembhng weakness, but we still
do bless God that we are weak because it makes room for the
display of his own invincible strength in fulfilling such a
promise as this.
In addressing you this morning, I shall first have to notice
the self-weakness which is implied in our text / secondly, I
shall come to the great promise of the text ; and then I shall
try and draw one or two inferences from it, ere I conclude.
I. First, the self-weakness hinted at in the text. To
keep to my figure, if this promise be like a star, you know
there is no seeing the stars in the day-time when we stand here
upon the upper land ; we must go down a deep well, and then
we shall be able to discover them. IN'ow, beloved, as this is
day-time with our hearts, it will be necessary for us to go
down the deep well of old recollections of our past trials and
troubles. We must first get a good fair idea of the great
depth of our own weakness, b.efore we shall be able to behold
the brightness of this rich and exceeding precious promise.
A self sufiicient man can no more understand this promise,
than a coal heaver can understand Greek : he has never been
in a position in which to understand it ; he has never learned
his own need of another's strength, and therefore he can not
" AS THY DAYS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE." 61
possibly understand the value of a promise which consists in
giving to us a strength beyond our own. Let us for a few
minutes consider our own weakness.
Ye children of God, have ye not proved your own weakness
in the day of duty f The Lord has spoken to you, and he has
said, " Son of man, run, and do such and such a thing which
I bid thee ;" and you have gone to do it, but as you have
been upon your way, a sense of great responsibility has bowed
you down, and you have been ready to turn back even at the
outset, and to cry, " Send by whomsoever thou wilt send, but
not by me." Reinforced by strength, you have gone to the
duty, but while performing it, you have at times felt your
hands hanging exceeding heavy, and you have had to look up
many a time and cry, " O Lord, give me more strength, for
without tliy strength this work must be unaccomplished ; I
can not perform it myself." And when the work has been
done, and you have looked back upon it, you have either been
filled with amazement that it should have been done at all by
so poor and weak a worm as yourself, or else you have been
overcome with horror because you have been afraid the work
was marred, Uke the vessel on the potter's wheel, by reason
o^ your own want of skillfiilness. I confess, in my own posi-
tion, I have a thousand causes to confess my own weakness
every day. In preparing for the pulpit how often do we dis-
cover our weakness when a hundred texts exhibit themselves,
and we know not which to choose ; and when we have selected
our subject, distracting thoughts come in, and when we would
concentrate our minds upon some holy topic, we find they are
carried hither and thither, driven about like the minds of chil-
dren by every wind of thought. And when we bow out
knees to seek the Lord's help before we preach, how often
does our tongue refuse to give utterance to the earnestness of
our hearts ? And alas ! how frequently too is our heart cold
when we are about to enter upon an occupation which requires
the heart to be hot like a furnace, and the lip to be burning
like a live coal. Here in this pulpit I have often learned ray
weakness, when words have fled from me, and thoughts havo
departed too, and when that zeal which I thought would have
62
poured itself forth like a cataract, has trickled forth in unwil-
ling drops like a sullen stream, the source of which doth
almost fail, and which seemeth itself as if it longed to be dried
up and dead. And after preaching, how have I cast myself
upon my bed, and tossed to and fro, groaning because I
thought I had failed to deliver my message, and had not
preached my Master's Word as my Master would have me
preach it. All of you, in your own callings, I dare say, have
had enough to prove that. I do not believe a Christian man
can examine himself without finding every day that weakness
is proven even in the doing of his duty. Your shop, however
small, will be enough to prove to you your weakness ; your
business, however little, your cares, however light, your fam-
ily, however small, will furnish you with enough proofs of the
fact : " Without me ye can do nothing ;" " He that abideth
in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit : for
without me ye can do nothing."
But, beloved, we prove our weakness, perhaps more visibly,
when w^e come into the day of suffering. There it is that we
are weak indeed. I have sat by the side of those who have
been exceedingly sick, and have marked their patience ; but
I do not know that I ever wondered at the patience of a sick
man so much as I do when I am sick myself; then patience is
an extraordinary virtue. Women suifer, and suffer well ; but
I do think there are very few men who could bear the tithe
of the suffering that many women endure, without exhibiting
a hundred times as much impatience. Most of us who are
gifted with strong constitutions, and have but little of sickness,
have to chasten ourselves, that what little sickness we have to
contend with is borne with so little resignation and with so
much impatience ; that we are so ready to repine, so prepared
to bow our heads and wish we were dead, because a little pain
is rending our body. Here it is that we prove our weakness
indeed. Ah ! people of God, it is one thing to talk about the
furnace ; it is another thing to be in it. It is one thing to look
at the doctor's knife, but quite another thing to feel it. You
wdll find it one thing to sip the cup of medicine, but quite
another thing to lie in bed a dreary week or month, and to
"as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 63
drink on, and on, and on, of that nauseating draught. When
you are on dry land, most of you are good sailors ; out at sea
you are vastly difterent. There is many a man who makes a
wonderfully brave soldier till he gets into the battle, and then
he wishes himself miles away, and except his spurs there is no
weapon he can use with much advantage. That man has never
been sick who does not know his weakness, his want of pa-
tience and of endi^-ance.
Again, beloved, there is another thing which will very soon
prove our weakness, if neither duty nor suffering will do it —
namely, progress. You sit down to-morrow and you read the
life of some eminent servant of God : perhaps the life of David
Brainard, and how he gave up his life for his Master in the
wilderness ; or the heroic life of Henry Martyn, and how he
sacrificed all for Christ : and as you read you say within yourself,
" I will endeavor to be like this man ; I will seek to have his
faith, his self denial, his love to never-dying souls." Try and
get them, beloved, and you will soon find your own weakness.
I have sometimes thought I would try to have more faith, but
I have found it very hard to keep as much as I had. I have
thought, " I will love my Saviour more," and it was right that
I should strive to do so ; but when I sought to love him more
I found that perhaps I was going backward instead of for-
ward. How often do we find out our weakness when God
answers our prayers !
" I asked the Lord that I might erow
In faith, and love, and every grace ;
Might more of his salvation know,
And seek more earnestly his face.
I hoped that in some favor'd hour
At once he'd answer my request,
And by his love's constraining power,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.
Instead of this he made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart,
And let the angry power of hell
Assault my soul in every part
54 "as thy days, so shall thy steength be."
' Lord, why is this ?' I trembling cried,
' Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death ?'
• ' 'Tis in this waj^,' the Lord repUed,
' I answer prayer for grace and faith.' "
That is, the Lord helps us to grow downward when we are
only thinking about growing upward. Let any of you try to
grow in grace, and seek to run the heavenly race, and make
a little progress, and you will soon find, in such a slippery
road as that which we have to travel, that it is very hard to
go one step forward, though remarkably easy to go a great
many steps backward.
If neither of these three things will prove thy weakness,
Christian, I will advise thee to try another. See what thou
art in temptation. I have seen a tree in the forest that seemed
to stand fast like a rock ; I have stood beneath its wide-spread-
ing branches, and have sought to shake its trunk, to see if I
could, but it stood immovable. The sun shone upon it, and
the rain descended, and many a winter's frost sprinkled its
boughs with snow, but it still stood fast and firm. But one
night there came a howling wind which swept through the
forest, and the tree that seemed to stand so fast lay stretched
along the ground, its gaunt arms which once were lifted up
to heaven lying hopelessly broken, and the trunk snapped in
twain. And so have I seen many a professor strong and
mighty, and nothing seemed to move him ; but I have seen
the wind of persecution and temptation come against him,
and I have heard him creak with murmuring, and at last have
seen him break in apostasy, and he has lain along the ground
a mournful sj)ecimen of what every man must become who
maketh not the Lord his strength, and who relieth not upon
the Most High. "Ah!" says one, "I do not believe I could
be tempted to sin." My friend, it depends upon what kind of
temptation it should be. There are many of us here who
could not be tempted to drunkenness, and others who could not
be tempted to lust. If the devil should set before some of you
cups of the richest wines that ever came from the vintages of
Burgundy or of Xeres, you would not care for them ; if you
did but sip them it would suffice you : it would be in vain to
tempt you with the drunkard's song ; nothing could induce
"as thy days, so shall thy stbength be." 65
you to lose your equilibrium by intoxicating liquors ; but per-
haps you are the very man whom a temptation of lust might
overthrow. While there be other men whom neither lust nor
wine can overcome, who may be led by a prospect of profit
into that which is dishonest ; and others again, whom neither
profit, nor lust, nor wine, would turn aside, may be over-
thrown by anger, or envy, or malice. We have all our ten-
der points. When Thetis dipped Achilles in the Styx, you
remember she held him by the heel ; he was made invulner-
able wherever the water touched him, but his lieel not being
covered with the water, was vulnerable, and there Parts shot
his arrow, and he died. It is even so with us. We may think
that we are covered with virtue till we are totally invulner-
able, but we have a heel somewhere ; there is a place where
the arrow of the devil can make way : hence the absolute
necessity of taking to ourselves " the whole armor of God,"
so that there may not be a solitary joint in the harness that
shall be unprotected against the arrows of the devil. Satan
is very crafty ; he knows the ins and outs of manhood. There
is many an old castle that has stood against every attack, but
at last some traitor from within has gone without, and said, "I
know an old deserted passage, a subterranean back way, that
has not been used for many a day. In such and such a field
you will see an opening ; clear away a heap of stones there,
and I will lead you down the passage : you will then come
to an old door of which I have the key, and I can let you in;
and so by a back way I can lead you into the very heart of
the citadel, which you may then easily capture." It is so with
Satan. Man knoweth not himself so well as Satan knows him.
There are back ways and subterranean passages into man's
heart which the devil doth well understand ; and he who
thinketh that he is safe, let him take heed lest he fall. That
is not a bad hymn of Dr. Watts, after all, where he tells us
that Samson was very strong while he wore his hair, but
'• Samson, when liis hair was lost,
Met tho Philistines to his cost :
Shook his vain hmbs with vast surprise.
Made feeble fight, and lost his eyes."
56 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be."
The reason was, because there was a back way into Samson's
heart. The Philistines could not overcome him : " Heaps
upon heaps, with the jaw-bone of an ass have I slain a thou-
sand men." Come on, Philistines, he will rend you in pieces
as he did the young lion ; bind him with green withes, and
he will snap them as tow ; weave his locks with a weaver's
beam, and he will carry away loom and all, and go out like a
giant refreshed 'with new wine. But, O Delilah, he hath a
back way to his heart ; thou hast found it out, and now thou
canst overthrow him. Tremble, for ye may yet be overcome!
Ye ar^as weak as water if God shall leave you alone.
Now, I think, if we have well surveyed these different
points of our moral standing on earth, every child of God
will be ready to confess that he is weak. I imagine there may
be some of you ready to say, " Sir, I am nothing." Then I
shall reply, " Ah ! you are a young Christian." There will
be others of you who will say, " Sir, I am less than nothing."
And I shall say, " Ah ! you are an old Christian ;" for the
older Christians get, the less they become in their own esteem,
the more they feel their own weakness, and the more entirely
they rely upon the strength of God.
II. Having thus dwelt upon the first point, we shall now
come to the second — The Great Pkomise, — " As thy days,
so shall thy strength be."
In the first place,- this is a well guaranteed promise. A
promise is nothing unless I have good security that it shall be
fulfilled. It is in vain for men to promise largely unless their
fulfillment shall be as large as their promise, lor the largeness
of their promise is just the largeness of deception. But here
every word of God is true. God has issued no more notes
for the bank of heaven than he can cash in an hour if he wills.
There is enough bullion in the vaults of Omnipotence to pay
off every bill that ever shall be drawn by the faith of man or
the promises of God. Now look at this one^-" As thy days,
so shall thy strength be."
Beloved, God has a strong reserve with which to pay off
this promise ; for is he not himself omnipotent, able to do all
things ? Believer, till thou canst drain dry the ocean of om-
"as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 57
nipotence, till thou canst break into pieces the towering moun-
tains of almighty strength, thou never needest to fear. Until
thine enemy can stop the course of a whirlwind with a reed,
till he can twist the hurricane from its path by a word of his
puny lip, thou needest not think that the strength of man
shall ever be able to overcome the strength which is in thee,
namely, the strength of God. Whilst the earth's huge pillars
stand, thou hast enough to make thy faith firm. The same
God who guides the stars in their courses, who directs the
earth in its orbit, who feeds the burning furnace of the sun,
and keeps the stars perpetually burning with their fires — the
same God has promised to supply thy strength. While he is
able to do all these things, think not that he shall be unable
to fulfill his own promise. Remember what he did in the days
of old, in the former generations. Remember how he spake,
and it was done ; how he commanded, and it stood fast. Do
you not see him in the black eternity ? When there was
nothing but grim darkness, there he stood — the mighty Arti-
ficer : upon the anvil there he cast a hot mass of flame, and
hammering it with his own ponderous arm, each spark that
flew from it made a world ; there those sparks are glittering
now, the ofispring of the anvil of the eternal purposes, and
the hammer of his own majestic might. And shall he, that
created the world, grow weary ? Shall he fail ? Shall he
break his promises for want of strength ? He haugeth the
world upon nothing ; he fixed the pillars of heaven in silver
sockets of light, and thereon he hung the golden lamjis, the
sun and the moon ; and shall he that did all this be unable to
support his children ? Shall he be unfaithful to his word for
want of 2>ower in his arm or strength in his will ? Remember
again, thy God, who has promised to be thy strength, is the
God who upholdeth all things by the word of his hand. Who
feedeth the ravens ? Who supplies the lions ? Doth not he
do it ? And how ? He openeth his hand and supplieth the
want of every living thing. He has to do notliing more tlian
simply to open his hand. Who is it that restrains the tem-
pest ? Doth not he say that he rides upon the wings of tho
wind, that he maketh the clouds |iis chariots, and holds tho
3*
68 "as thy days, so shall thy steength be."
water in the hollow of his hand ? Shall he fail thee ? When
he has put such a promise as this on record, shalt thou for a
moment indulge the thought that he has out-promised himself,
and gone beyond his power to fulfill ? Ah ! no. Who was it
that cut Rahab in pieces, and wounded the dragon ? Who
divided the Red Sea, and made the waters thereof stand up-
right as a heap ? Who led the people through the wilder-
ness ? Who was it that did cast Pharaoh into the depths of
the sea, his chosen captains, also, in the depth of the Red Sea ?
Who rained fire and brimstone out of heaven upon Sodom and
Gomorrah ? Who chased out the Canaanite with the hornet,
and made a way of escape for his people Israel ? Who was it
that brought them again from their captivity, and did settle
them again in their own land ? Who is he that hath put down
kings, yea and slew mighty kings, that he might make room
for his people wherein they might dwell in a quiet habitation ?
Hath not the Lord done it : and is his arm shortened that
he can not save : or is his ear heavy that he can not hear ? O
thou who art my God and my strength, I can beheve that this
promise shall be fulfilled, for the boundless reservoir of thy
grace can never be exhausted, and the illimitable store-house
of thy strength can never be emptied or rifled by the enemy.
It is, then, a well guaranteed promise.
But now I want you to notice it is a limited promise.
" What !" says one, " limited ! Why it says, ' As thy days, so
shall thy strength be.' " Ay, it is hmited. I know it is un-
limited in our troubles, but still it is limited. First, it says
our strength is to be as our days are ; it does not say our
strength is to be as our desires are. Oh ! how often have we
thought, " How I wish I were as strong as so-and-so" — one
who had a great deal of faith. Ah ! but then you would have
rather more faith than you wanted ; and what would be the
good of that ? It would be liSe the manna the children of
Israel had — if they did not eat it in the day it bred worms and
stank. " Still," says one, " if I had fiith like so-and-so, I think
I should do wondei's." Yes, but you would get the glory of
them. That is why God does not let you have the faith, be-
cause he does not want you to do wonders. That is reserved
"as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 59
for God, not for you — "He only doeth wondrous things."
Once more, it does not say, our strength shall be as oiiv fears.
God often leaves us to shift alone with our fears — never with
our troubles. Many of God's people have a manufactory at
the back of their houses in which they manufacture troubles ;
and home-made troubles, like other home-made things, last a
very long while, and generally tit very comfortably. Troubles
of God's sending are always suitable — the right sort for our
backs ; but those that we make are of the wrong sort, and they
always last us longer than God's. I have known an old lady
sit and fret because she believed she should die in a work-house,
and she wanted God to give her grace accordingly ; but what
would have been the good of that, because the Lord meant
that she should die in her own quiet bedroom ? I have heard
of and known men who, being sick, believed they were dying,
and wanted grace to die complacently ; but God would not
give it because he intended them to live, and why should he
give them dying grace till they came to die ? And we have
known others who said they wanted grace to endure many
troubles which they expected to come upon them. They were
going to fail in a foitnight or so, but they did not fail, and it
was no wonder they had not grace given to carry them through
it, because they did not require it. The promise is, " As thy
days, so shall thy strength be." " When your vessel gets
empty then will I fill it ; I will not give you any extra, over
and above. When you are weak then I will make you strong ;
but I will not give you any extra strength to lay by : strength
enough to bear your sufferings, and to do your duty ; but no
strength to play at matches with your brethren and sisters in
order to get the glory to yourselves." Oh! if we had strength
according to our wishes we should soon all of us be like Jesh-
urun — wax fat, and begin to kick against the Most High.
Then again, there is another limit. It says, " As thy da^s, so
shall thy strength be." It does not say, " as thy weeks,^^ or
''^ mo7iths^^'> but "as thy days:'' You are not going to have
Monday's grace given you on a Sunday, nor Tuesday's grace
on a Monday. You shall have Monday's grace given you on
Monday morning as soon as you rise and want it ; you shall
60 "as thy days, so. shall thy steength be."
not have it given you on Saturday night ; you shall have it
" day by day" — no more than you want, no less than you
want. I- do not believe God's people are to be trusted with a
week's grace all at once. They are like many of our work-
men : they get their wages on Saturday night, and then they
go and have Saint Monday and Saint Tuesday, and never do
a stroke of work till Wednesday, when they go to the pawn-
brokers with their tools to help them over till the next Satur-
day night. ISTow, I think God's children would do the same.
If they had grace given them on Saturday to last them all
through the week, I question whether the devil would not get
a good deal of it — whether they would not be pawning some
of their old evidences before the week was out, in order to
live upon them : spending all their grace on Monday and
Tuesday, spending very much of their strength in indulging
in pride and boasting, instead of walking humbly with their
God. ISTo ; " as thy days^ so shall thy strength be."
Il^ow, having said that the promise is limited, perhaps I am
bound to add— what an extensive promise this is ! " As thy
days, so shall thy strength be." Some days are veiy little
things ; in our pocket book we have very little to put down,
for there was nothing done of any importance. But some
days are very big days. Ah ! I have known a big day — a day
of great duties, when great things had to be done for God —
too great, it seemed, for one man to do ; and when great duty
was but half done there came great trouble, such as my poor
heart had never felt before.
Oh ! what a great day it was ! there was a night of lamen -
tation in this place, and the cry of weeping, and of mourning,
and of death. Ah ! but blessed be God's name, though the
day was big with tempest, and though it swelled with horror,
yet as that day was, so was God's strength. Look at poor
Job. "What a great day he had once ! " Master," says one,
" the oxen were plowing, and the asses feeding beside them,
and the Sabeans fell upon them and took them away." In
comes another, and he says, " The fire of God hath fallen on
the sheep." " Oh," says another, "the Chaldeans have fallen
upon the camels and taken them away, and I, only I, am left
"as thy DATS, SO SHALL THY STRENGTH BE." 61
to tell thee." Still, you see, grace kept growing with the day.
Still strength grew as the trouble grew. At last conies the
back stroke : " A gi-eat wind came from the wilderness, and
smote the house where thy sons and daughters were feasting,
and they are dead, and I, only I, am left to tell thee." Grace
still kept growing, and at last the grace did overflow the
trouble, and the poor old patriarch cried, " The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away ; blessed be the name of the
Lord." Ah ! Job, that was a big day indeed, and it was big
grace that went with that big day. Satan sometimes blows
up our days with his black breath till they grow to such a
cursed height that we know not how great the days must be.
Our head whirls at the thought of passing through such a sea
of trouble in so short a space of time. But oh ! how sweet it
is to think that the bed of grace is never shorter than a man
can stretch himself upon it ; nor is the covering of Almighty
love ever shorter than that it may cover us. We never need
be afraid. If our troubles should become as high as moun-
tains, God's grace would become like Noah's flood : it would
go twenty cubits higher till the mountains were covered. If
God should send to you and to me a day such as there was
none like it, neither should be any more, he would send us
strength such as there was none like it, neither should there
be any more.
Do you see Martin Luther riding into Worms ? There is a
solitary monk going before a great council : he knows they will
bura him ; did not they burn John Huss, and Jerome of
Prague ? Both those men had a safe conduct, and it was vio-
lated, and tliey were put to death by Papists, who said that
no faith was to be kept with heretics. Luther placed very
little reliance on his safe conduct ; and you would have expected
as he rode into Worms, that he would have a dejected coun-
tenance. Not so. No sooner does he catch sight of Worms,
than some one advises him not to go into the city. Said he,
" If there were as many devils in Worms, as there are tilfes on
the roofs of the houses, I would enter." And he does ride in.
He goes to the inn, and cats his bread, and drinks his beer, as
complacently as if he were at his own fireside ; and then ho
62 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be."
goes quietly to bed. When summoned before the council, and
asked to retract his opinion, he does not want time to consider,
or debate about it; but he says, "These things that I have
written, are the truth of God, and by them will I stand till I
die ; so help me God !" The whole assembly trembles, but
there is not a flush upon the cheek of the brave monk, nor do
his knees knock together. He is in the midst of armed men,
and those who seek his blood. There sit fierce cardinals, and
blood-thirsty bishops, and the Pope's legate ; like spiders, long-
ing to suck his blood. He cares for none of them ; he walks
away, and is confident that " God is his refuge and strength, a
very present help in trouble." " Ah ! but," you say, " I could
not do that." Yes you could, if God called you to it. Any
child of God can do what any other child of God has done,
if God gives him the strength. You could not do what you
are doing even now, without God's strength ; and you could
do ten thousand times more, if he should be pleased to fill you
with his might. What an expansive promise this is !
Once more, what a varyhig promise it is ! I do not mean
that the promise varies, but, adapts itself to all our changes,
"^s thy days, so shall thy strength be." Here is a fine sun-
shiny morning ; all the world is laughing ; every thing looks
glad ; the birds are singing, the trees seem to be all alive with
music. " My strength shall be as my day is," says the pilgrim.
Ah ! pilgrim, there is a little black cloud gathering. Soon it
increases ; the flash of lightning wounds the heaven, and it be-
gins to bleed in showers. Pilgrim, " As thy days, so shall thy
strength be." The birds have done singing, and the world
has done laughing ; but, " as thy days, so shall thy strength be."
Now the dark night comes on, and another day apj)roaches —
»a day of tempest, and whirlwind, and storm. Dost thou
tremble, pilgrim ? — " As thy days, so ^hall thy strength be."
" But there are robbers in the wood." " As thy days, so shall
thy strength be." "But there are lions which shall devour
me.'* "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." "But there
are rivers ; how shall I swim them ?" Here is a boat to cai-ry
thee over : " As thy days, so shall thy strength be." " But
there are fires : how shall I pass through them ?" Here is the
garment that will protect thee : " As thy days, so shall thy
"as thy days, so shall thy strength be." 63
strength be.'* " But there are arrows that fly by day." Here
is thy shield : " As thy days, so shall thy streugth be." " But
there is the pestilence that walketh in darkness." Here is thy
antidote: "As thy days, so shall thy strength be." Where-
ever you may be, and whatever trouble awaits you, " As thy
days, so shall thy strength be." Children of God, can not
you say that this has been true hitherto? Zcan. It might
seem egotistical if I were to talk of the evidence I have re-
ceived of this during the past week, but nevertheless I can not
help recording my praise to God. I left this pulpit last Sab-
bath as sick as any man ever left the pulpit, and I left this
country too, as ill as I could be ; but no sooner had I set my
foot upon the other shore, where I was to preach the gospel,
than my wonted strength entirely retunied to me. I had no
sooner buckled on the harness to go forth and fight my Mas-
ter's battle, than every ache and pain was gone, and all my
sickness-fled ; and as my day was, so certainly was my strength.
I believe, if I were lying upon a dying couch, if God called
me to preach in America, and I had but faith to be carried
down to the boat, I should have strength given me, though I
seemed to be dying, to minister as the Lord had appointed me.
And so would each of you, wherever you might be, find that
as your day was, so your strength should be.
And in conclusion, what a loiig promise this is ! You may
live till you are never so old, but this promise will outlive you.
When thou comest into the depths of the river Jordan, " as
thy days, so shall tH^- strength be ;" thou shalt have confidence
to face the last grim tyrant, and grace to smile even in the
jaws of the grave. And when thou shalt rise again in the
terrible morning of the resurrection, " as thy days, so shall thy
strength be ;" though the earth be reeling with dismay, thou
shalt know no fear ; though the heavens are tottering with
confusion, thou shalt know no trouble. " As thy days, so shall
thy strength be." And when thou shalt see God face to face,
though thy weakness were enough to make thee die, thou shalt
Lave strength to bear the beatific vision ; thou shalt see him
face to face, and thou ahalt five; thou shalt lie in the bosom
of thy God ; immortalized and made full of strength, thou
shalt be able to bear even the brightness of the Most High.
64 "as thy days, so shall thy strength be."
III. What iNTEEENCE shall I draw except this ? Children
of the living God, be rid of your doubts, be rid of your
trouble and your fear. Young Christians, do not be afraid to
set forward on the heavenly race. You bashful Christians, that,
like Nicodemus, are ashamed to come out and make an open
profession, don't be afraid ; " as your -day is, so shall your
strength be." Why need you fear ? You are afraid of dis-
gracing your profession, you shall not ; your day shall never
be more troublesome, or more full of temptation, than your
strength shall be full of deliverance.
And as for you that have not God to be yours, I must draw
one inference for you. Your strength is decaying. You are
growing old, and your old age will not be like your youth.
You have strength — strength which you prostitute to the
cause of Satan, which you misuse in the service of the devil.
When you grow old, as you will do, unless your wickedness shall
bring you to an early grave ; they that look out of the windows
must be darkened, and the grasshopper must be a burden to
you ; and your strength shall not be as your day. And when
you come to die, as die you must, then you will have no strength
to die with ; you must die alone ; you must hear yon iron
gates creak on their hinges, and no guardian angel to comfort
you, as you go through the dreary A^ault. And you must stand
at God's great bar at the day of resurrection, and no one to
strengthen you there. How will your cheek blanch with ter-
ror ! How will your soul be affrighted with horror, when you
shall hear it said, " Depart, ye cursed, into*everlasting fire pre-
pared for the devil and his angels." You have no such prom-
ise as this to cheer you onward, but you have this to drive
you to despair : your days shall become heavier, but your
strength shall become Ughter ; your sorrows shall be multiplied,
and your joys shall be diminished ; your days shall shorten,
and your nights shall lengthen ; your summers shall become
dimmer, and your winters shall become blacker ; all your hopes
shall die, and your fears shall live. Ye shall reap the harvest
of your sins in the dreadful vintage of eternal wrath. May
God give us all grace, so that when days and years are past,
we all may meet in heaven.
SERMON lY.
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.
"The blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of Abel."
— Hebeews, xii. 24.
Of all substances blood is the most mysterious, aod in some
senses the most sacred. Scripture teacheth us — and after all
there is very much philosophy in Sci'ipture — that " the blood
is the life" — that the life lieth in the blood. Blood, there-
fore, is the mysterious link between matter and spirit. How
it is that the soul should in any degree have an alliance with
matter through blood, we can not understand ; but certain it
is that this is the mysterious link which unites these apparently
dissimilar things together, so that the soul can inhabit the
body, and the life can rest in the blood. God has attached
awful sacredness to the shedding of blood. Under the Jewish
dispensation, even the blood of animals was considered as
sacred. Blood might never be eaten by the Jews ; it was too
sacred a thing to become the food of man. The Jew was
scarcely allowed to kill his own food : certainty he must not
kill it except he poured out the blood as a sacred offering to
Almighty God. Blood was accepted by God as the symbol
of the atonement. " Without shedding of blood there is no
remission" of sin, because, I take it, blood hath such an
affinity with Hfe, that inasmuch as God would accept nought
but blood, he signified that there must be a life offered to him,
and that his great and glorious Son must surrender his life as
a sacrifice for his sheep.
Now, we have in our text "blood" mentioned — twofold
blood. We have the blood of murdered Abel, and the blood
of murdered Jesus. We have also two things in the text : — a
comparison between tJie blood of sprinkling^ and tlie blood of
66 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.
Ahel y and then a certain condition mentioned. Rather, if
we read the whole verse in order to get its meaning, we find
that the righteous are spoken of as coming to the blood of
sprinkling, that speaketh better things than the blood of
Abel ; so that the condition which will constitute the second
part of our discourse, is coming to that blood of sprinkliiig
for our salvation and glory.
I. Without farther preface I shall at once introduce to you
the CONTRAST AND COMPARISON I^IPLIED IN THE TEXT. " The
blood of sprinkling, that speaketh better things than that of
Abel." I confess I was very much- astonished, when look-
ing at Dr. Gill and Albert Barnes, and several of the more
eminent commentators, while studying this passage, to find
that they attach a meaning to this verse which had never oc-
curred to me before. They say that the meaning of the verse
is not that the blood of Christ is superior to the blood of mur-
dered Abel, although that is certainly a truth, but that the
sacrifice of the blood of Christ is better, and speaketh better
things than the sacrifice which Abel ofiered. Now, although
I do not think this is the meaning of the text, and I have my
reasons for believing that the blood here contrasted with that
of our Saviour, is the blood of the murdered man Abel, yet on
lookirfg to the original there is so much to be said on both
sides of the question, that I think it fair in explaining the pas-
sage to give you both the meanings. They are not conflict-
ing interpretations ; there is indeed a shade of difiference
between them, but still they amount to the same idea.
First, then, we may understand here a comparison between
the offerings Abel presented, and the offerings Jesus Christ
presented, when he gave his blood to be a ransom for the
flock.
Let me describe Abel's offering. I have no doubt Adam
had from the very first of his expulsion from the garden of
Eden offered a sacrifice to God ; and we have some dim hint
that this sacrifice was of a beast, for we find that the Lord
God made Adam and Eve skins of beasts to be their clothing,
and it is probable that those skins were procured by the
slaughter of victims offered in sacrifice. However, that is but
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 67
a dim hint : the first absolute record that we have of an obla-
tory sacrifice is the record of the sacrifice oftered by Abel.
Now, it appears that very early there was a distinction among
men. Cain wasthe representative of the seed of the serpent, and
Abel was the representative of the seed of the woman. Abel was
God's elect, and Cain was one of those who rejected the Most
High. However, both Cain and Abel united together in the out-
ward service of God. They both of them brought on a cer-
tain high day a sacrifice. Cain took a difierent view of the
matter of sacrifice from that which presented itself to the
mind of Abel. Cain was proud and haughty : he said, " I am
ready to confess that the mercies which we receive from the
soil are the gift of God, but I am not ready to acknowledge
that I am a guilty sinner, deserving God's wrath ; therefore,"
said he, " I will bring nothing but the fruit of the ground."
" Ah, but," said Abel, " I feel that while I ought to be grate-
ful for temporal mercies, at the same time I have sins to con-
fess, I have iniquities to bo pardoned, and I know that with-
out shedding of blood there is no remission of sin ; therefore,"
said he, " O Cain, I will not be content to bring an offering of
the ground, of the ears of corn, or of first ripe fruits, but I
will bring of the firstlings of my flock, and I will shed blood
upon the altar, because my faith is, that there is to come a
great Victim who is actually to make atonement for the sins of
men, and by the slaughter of this lamb, I express my solemn
faith in him." Not so Cain ; he cared nothing for Christ ; he
was not wilhng to confess his sin ; he had no objection to pre-
sent a thank-offering, but a sin-oflfering he would not bring.
He did not mhid bringing to God that which he thought
might be acceptable as a return for favors received, but he
would not bring to God an acknowledgment of his guilt, or a
confession of his inability to make atonement for it, except by
the blood of a substitute. Cain, moreover, when he came to
the altar, came entirely without faith. He piled the unhewn
stones, as Abel did, he laid his sheaves of corn upon the altar,
and there he waited, but it vas to him a matter of compara-
tive indiflSerence whether God accepted him or not. He be-
lieved there was a God, doubtless, but he had no faith in the
68 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.
promises of that God. God had said that the seed of the
woman should bruise the serpent's head — that was the gospel
as revealed to our first parents ; but Cain had no belief in
that gospel — whether it were true or not, he cared not — it
was sufficient for him that he acquired enough for his own
sustenance from the soil ; he had no faith. But holy Abel
stood by the side of the altar, and while Cain the infidel per-
haps laughed and jeered at his sacrifice, he boldly presented
there the bleeding lamb, as a testimony to all men, both of
that time and all future times, that he believed in the seed of
the woman — that he looked for him to come who should
destroy the serpent, and restore the ruins of the fall. Do you
see holy Abel, standing there, ministering as a priest at God's
altar ? Do you see the flush of joy which comes over his
face, when he sees the heavens opened, and the living fire of
God descend upon the victim? Do you note with what a
grateful expression of confident faith he lifts to heaven his eye
which had been before filled with tears, and cries, " I thank
thee O Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that thou hast ac-
cepted my sacrifice, inasmuch as I presented it through faith
in the blood of thy Son, my Saviour, who is to come."
Abel's sacrifice, being the first on record, and being offered
in the teeth of opposition, has very much in it which puts it
ahead of many other of the sacrifices of the Jews. Abel is
to be greatly honored for his confidence and faith in the com-
ing Messiah. But compare for a moment the sacrifice of
Christ with the sacrifice of Abel, and the sacrifice of Abel
shrinks into insignificance. What did Abel bring ? He
brought a sacrifice which showed the necessity of blood-shed-
ding, but Christ brought the blood-shedding itself. Abel
taught the world by his sacrifice that he looked for a victim,
but Christ brought the actual victim. Abel brought but the
type and the figure, the lamb which was but a picture of the
Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the world ; but
Christ was that Lamb. He was the substance of the shadow,
the reahty of the type. Abel's sacrifice had. no merit in it
apart from the faith in the Messiah with which he presented
it J but Christ's sacrifice had merit of itself; it was in itself
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. 69
meritorious. What was the blood of Abel's lamb ? It was
nothing but the blood of a common lamb that might have
been shed anywhere ; except that he had faith in Christ the
blood of the lamb was but as water, a contemptible thing ;
but the blood of Christ was a sacrifice indeed, richer far than
all the blood of beasts that ever were offered upon the altar
of Abel, or the altar of all the Jewish high priests. We may-
say of all the sacrifices that were ever offered, however costly
they might be, and however acceptable to God, though they
were rivers of oil and tens of thousands of fat beasts, yet they
were less than nothing, and contemptible, in comparison with
the one sacrifice which our high priest hath offered once for all,
whereby he hath eternally perfected them that are sanctified.
We have thus found it very easy to set forth the difference
between the blood of Christ's sprinkling and the blood which
Abel sprinkled. But now I take it that there is a deeper
meaning than this, despite what some commentators have said.
I believe that the allusion hero is to the blood of the murdered
Abel. Cain smote Abel, and doubtless his hands and the altar
were stained with the blood of him who had acted as a priest.
" Now," says our apostle, " that blood of Abel spoke." We
have evidence that it did, for God said to Cain, " The voice
of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from the ground ;" and
the apostle's comment upon that in another place is — " By
faith Abel offered unto God a more excellent sacrifice than
Cain, by which he obtained witness that he was righteous,
God testifying of his gifts, and by it he being dead yet
speaketh ;" speaketh through his blood, his blood crying unto
God from the ground. Now, Christ's blood speaks too. What
is the difterence between the two voices ? — for we are told in
the text that it " speaketh better tilings than that of Abel."
Abel's blood spoke in a threefold manner. It spoke in
heaven ; it spoke to the sons of men ; it spoke to the con-
science of Cain. The blood of Christ speaks in a like three-
fold manner, and it speaks better things.
Firet, the blood of Abel spoke in heaven. Abel was a holy
man, and all that Cain could bring against him was, " His own
works were evil, and his brother's were righteous." You see
70 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP OHEIST.
the brothers going to the sacrifice together. Yoii mark the
black scowl upon the brow of Cain, when Abel's sacrifice is
accepted, while his remains untouched by the sacred fire.
You note how they begin to talk together — how quietly Abel
argues the question, and how ferociously Cain denounces him.
You note again how God speaks to Cain, and warns him of
the evil which he knew was in his heart ; and you see Cain, as
he goes from the presence chamber of the Most High, warned
and forewarned, but yet with the dreadful thought in his
heart that he will imbrue his hands in his brother's blood. He
meets his brother ; he talks friendly with him ; he gives him,
as it were, the kiss of Judas ; he entices him into the field
where he is alone ; he takes him unawares ; he smites him, and
smites him yet again, till there lies the murdered, bleeding
corpse of his brother. O earth ! earth ! earth ! cover not his
blood. This is the first murder thou hast ever seen, the first
blood of man that ever stained thy soil. Hark ! there is a cry
heard in heaven ; the angels are astonished ; they rise up from
their golden seats, and they inquire, " What is that cry ?"
God looketh upon them, and he saith, " It is the cry of blood ;
a man hath been slain by his fellow ; a brother by him who
came from the bowels of the self-same mother has been mur-
dered in cold blood, through malice. One of my saints has
been murdered, and here he comes." And Abel entered into
heaven, blood-red, the first of God's elect who had entered
Paradise, and the first of God's children who had worn the
blood-red crown of martyrdom. And then the cry was heard,
loud and clear and strong; and thus it spake— "Revenge!
revenge ! revenge !" And God himself, upstarting from his
throne, summoned the culprit to his presence ; questioned him,
condemned him out of his own mouth, and made him hence-
forth a fugitive and a vagabond, to wander over the surface
of the earth, which was to be sterile henceforth to his plow.
And now, beloved, just contrast with this the blood of
Christ. That is Jesus Christ, the incarnate Son of God ; he
hangs upon a tree ; he is murdered — murdered by his own
brethren. " He came unto his own, and his own received him
not, but his own led him out to death." He bleeds ; he dies ;
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 71
and then is heard a cry in heaven. The astonished angels
again start from their seats, and they say, " What is this ?
What is this cry that we hear ?" And the mighty Maker
answers yet again, "It is the cry of blood; it is the cry of the
blood of my only-begotten and well-beloved Son !" And
God, uprising from his throne, looks down from heaven and
listens to the cry. And what is the cry ? It is not revenge ;
but the voice crieth, " Mercy ! mercy ! mercy !" Did you
not hear it ? It said, " Father, forgive them, for they know
not what they do." Herein, the blood of Christ " speaketh
better things than that of Abel ;" for Abel's blood said, " Re-
venge !" and made the sword of God start from its scabbard ;
but Christ's blood cried " Mercy !" and sent the sword back
again, and bade it sleep for ever.
" Blood hath a voice to pierce the skies ;
' Revenge ! ' the blood of Abel cries ;
But the rich blood of Jesus slain,
Breathes peace as loud from every vein."
You will note too that Abel's blood cried for revenge upon
one man only — upon Cain ; it required the death of but one
man to satisfy for it, namely, the death of the murderer.
" Blood for blood !" The murderer must die the death. But
what saith Christ's blood in heaven ? Does it speak for only
one ? Ah ! no, beloved ; " the free gift hath come upon
many." Christ's blood cries mercy ! mercy ! mercy ! not on
one, but upon a multitude whom no man can number — ten
thousand times ten thousand.
Again ; Abel's blood cried to heaven for revenge, for one
transgression of Cain ; that for aught that Cain had done, worth-
less and vile before, the blood of Abel did not demand any
revenge ; it was for the one sin that blood clamored at the
throne of God, and not for many sins. Not so the voice of
the blood of Christ. It is " for many oflfenses unto justifica-
tion." Oh ! could ye hear that cry, that all-prevaihng cry, as
now it comes up from Calvary's summit — "Father, forgive
them .'" not one, but many. " Father, forgive them." And
not only forgive them this offense, but forgive them all their
72 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST.
sins, and blot out all their iniquities. Ah ! beloved, we might
have thought that the blood of Christ would have demanded
vengeance at the hands of God. Surely, if Abel be revenged
sevenfold, then must Christ be revenged seventy times seven.
If the earth would not swallow up the blood of Abel till it
had had its fill, surely we might have thought that the earth
never would have covered the corpse of Christ, until God had
struck the world with fire and sword, and banished all men to
destruction. But, O precious blood ! thou sayest not one
word of vengeance ! All that this blood cries is peace ! par-
don! forgiveness! mercy! acceptance! Truly it "speaketh
better things than that of Abel."
Again ; Abel's blood had a second voice. It spoke to the
whole world. " He being dead yet speaketh" — not only in
heaven, but on earth. God's prophets are a speaking people.
They speak by their acts and by their words as long as they
live, and when they are buried they speak by their example
which they have left behind. Abel speaks by his blood to us.
And what does it say ? Whea Abel ofiered up his victim
upon the altar he said to us, " I believe in a sacrifice that is to
be oflei'ed for the sins of men ;" but when Abel's own blood
was sprinkled on the altar he seemed to say, " Here is the
ratification of my faith ; I seal my testimony with my own
blood ; you have now the evidence of my sincerity, for I was
prepared to die for the defense of this truth which I now witness
unto you." It was a great thing for Abel thus to ratify his
testimony with his blood. We should not have believed the
martyrs half so easily if they had not been ready to die for
their profession. The gospel in ancient times would never
have spread at such a marvelous rate, if it had not been that
all the preachers of the gospel were ready at any time to attest
their message with their own blood. But Christ's blood
" speaketh better things than that of Abel." Abel's blood
ratified his testimony, and Christ's blood has ratified his testi-
mony too ; but Christ's testimony is better than that of Abel.
For what is the testimony of Christ ? The covenant of grace
— that everlasting covenant. He came into this world to tell
us that God had from the beginning chosen his people — that
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST. 73
he had ordained them to eternal life, and that he had made a
covenant with his Son Jesns Christ that if he would pay the
price they should go free — if he would suifer in their stead
they should be delivered. And Christ cried — 'ere he "bowed
his head and gave up the ghost" — " It is finished." The cove-
nant purpose is finished. That purpose was " to finish the
transgression, and to make an end of sins, and to make recon-
ciliation for iniquity, and to bring in everlasting righteous-
ness." Such was the testimony of our Lord Jesus Christ, as
his own blood gushed from his heart, to be the die-stamp and
seal that the covenant was ratified. When I see Abel die I
know that his testimony was true ; but when I see Christ die
I know that the covenant is true.
" This covenant, believer, stands
Thj rising fears to quell ;
'Tis signed and sealed and ratified,
In all things ordered well"
When he bowed his head and gave up the ghost, he did as
much as say, "All things arc made sure unto the seed by my
giving myself a victim." Come, saint, and see the covenant
all blood-bestained, and know that it is sure. He is "the
faithful and true witness, the prince of the kings of the earth."
First of martyrs, my Lord Jesus, thou hadst a better testimony
to witness than they all, for thou hast witnessed to the ever-
lasting covenant ; thou hast witnessed that thou art the shep-
herd and bishop of souls ; thou hast witnessed to the putting
away of sin by the sacrifice of thyself. Again : I say, come,
ye people of God, and read over the golden roll. It begins in
election — it ends in everlasting life, and all this the blood of
Christ crieth in your ears. All this is true ; for Christ's blood
proves it to be true, and to be sure to all the seed. It
"speaketh better things than that of Abel."
Now we come to the third voice ; for the blood of Abel had
a threefold sound. It spoke in the conscience of Cain. Hard-'
ened though he was, and like a very devil in his sin, yet he was
not so deaf in his conscience that ho could not hear the voice
of blood. The first thing that Abel's blood said to Cain was
74 THE VOICE OP THE BLOOD OP CHRIST.
this : "Ah ! guilty wretch, to spill thy brother's blood !" As he
saw it trickling from the wound and flowing down in streams,
he looked at it, and as the sun slione on it, and the red glare
came into his eye, it seemed to say, "Ah ! cursed wretch, for
the son of thine own mother thou hast slain. Thy wrath was
vile enough, when thy countenance fell, but to rise up against
thy brother and take away his life, oh ! how vile !" It seemed
to say to him, " What had he done that thou shouldst take
his life ? Wherein had he offended thee ? Was not his con-
duct blameless, and his conversation pure? If thou hadst
smitten a villain or a thief, men might not have blamed thee ;
but this blood is pure, clean, perfect blood ; how couldst thou
kill such a man as this?" And Cain put liis hand across his
brow, and felt there was a sense of guilt there that he had
never felt before. And then the blood said to him again,
" Why, whither wilt thou go ? Thou shalt be a vagabond as
long as thou livest." A cold chill ran through him, and he
said, "Whosoever findeth me will kill me." And though
God promised him he should live, no doubt he was always
afraid. If he saw a company of men together, he would hide
himself in a thicket, or if in his solitary wanderings he saw a
man at a distance, he started back, and sought to bury his
head, so that none should observe him. In the stillness of the
night he started up in his dreams. It was but his wife that
slept by his side ; but he thought he felt some one's hands
griping his throat, and about to take away his life. Then he
would sit up in his bed and look around at the grim shadows,
thinking some fiend was haunting him and seeking after him.
Then, as he rose to go about his business, he trembled. He
trembled to be alone, he trembled to be in company. When
he was alone he seemed not to be alone ; the ghost of his
brother seemed staring him in the face ; and when he was in
company he dreaded the voice of men, for he seemed to think
every one cursed him, and he thought every one knew the
crime he had committed, and no doubt they did, and every
man shunned him. No one would take his hand, for it was
red with blood, and his very child upon his knee was afraid to
look up into his father's face, for there was the mark wdiich
THE TOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. 75
God had set upon him. His very wife conld scarcely speak to
him — for she was afraid that from the lips of him who had
been cursed of God some curse might fall on her. The very
earth cursed him. He no sooner put his foot upon the ground,
than where it had been a garden before it sudd^^nly turned
into a desert, and the fair rich soil became hardened into an
arid rock. Guilt, like a grim chamberlain, with fingers bloody
red, did draw the curtain of his bed each night. His crime
refused him sleep. It spoke in his heart, and the walls of his
memory reverberated the dying cry of his murdered brother.
And no doubt that blood spoke one more thing to Cain. It
said, " Cain, although thou raayest now be spared, there is no
hope for thee ; thou art a man accursed on earth, and accursed
for ever ; God hath condemned thee here, and he will damn
thee hereafter." And so wherever Cain went, he never found
hope. Though he searched for it in the mountain top, yet he
found it not there. Hope that was left to all men, was denied
to him : a hopeless, houseless, helpless vagabond, he vjandered
up and down the surface of the earth. Oh ! Abel's blood had
a terrible voice indeed.
But now see the sweet change as ye listen to the blood of
Christ. It "speaketh better things than that of Abel."
Friend ! hast thou ever heard the blood of Christ in thy con-
science ? I have, and I thank God I ever heard that sweet
soft voice.
" Once a sinner near despair,
Sought the mercy-seat by prayer."
He prayed : he thought he w^as praying in vam. No tears
gushed from his eyes ; his heart was heavy within him ; he
sought, but he found no mercy. Again, again, and yet again,
he besieged the throne of heavenly grace and knocked at
mercy's door. Oh ! who can tell the mill-stone that lay upon
his beating heart, and the iron that did cat into his soul. He
was a prisoner in sore bondage ; deep, as he thought, in the
pondage of despair was he chained, to perish for ever. That
prisoner one day heard a voice, which said to him, " Away,
away, to Calvary !" Yet he trembled at the voice, for he
said, " Why should I go thither, for there my blackest sin was
Y6 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHKIST.
committed ; there I murdered the Saviour by my transgres-
sions ? Why should I go to see the murdered corpse of him
who became my brother born for adversity ?" But mercy
beckoned, and she said, " Come, come away, sinner !" And
the sinner followed. The chains were on his legs and on his
hands, and he could scarcely creep along. Still the black vul-
ture Destruction seemed hovering in the air. But he crept as
best he could, till he came to the foot of the hill of Calvary.
On the summit he saw a cross ; blood was distilling from the
hands, and from the feet, and from the side ; and Mercy touched
his ears and said, " Listen !" and he heard that blood speak ;
and as it spoke the first thing it said was, " Love !" And the
second thing it said was, " Mercy !" The third thing it said
was, "Pardon." The next thing it said was, "Acceptance."
The next thing it said was, "Adoption." The next thing it
said was, " Security." And the last thing it whispered was,
*' Heaven." And as the sinner heard the voice, he said within
himself, " And does that blood speak to me ?" And the
Spirit said, " To thee — to thee it speaks." And he listened,
and oh what music did it seem to his poor troubled heart, for
in a moment all his doubts were gone. He had no sense of
guilt. He knew that he was vile, but he saw that his vileness
was all washed away; he knew that he was guilty, but he saw
his guilt all atoned for, through that precious blood that was
flowing there. He had been full of dread before: he dreaded
life, he dreaded death ; but now he had no dread at all; a joy-
ous confidence took possession of his heart. He looked to
Christ, and he said, " I know that my Redeemer liveth ;" he
clasped the Saviour in his arms, and he began to sing — '* Oh I
confident am I ; for this blessed blood was shed for me." And
then Despair fled and Destruction was driven clean away ; and
instead thereof came the bright white-winged angel of Assur-
ance, and she dwelt in his bosom, saying evermore to him,
"Thou art accepted in the Beloved : thou art chosen of God
and precious : thou art his child now, and thou shalt be his
favorite throughout eternity." " The blood of Christ speaketh
better things than that of Abel."
And now I must have you notice that the blood of Christ
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHEIST. 77
bears a comj^ariso?! with the blood of Abel in one or two re-
spects, but it excelleth in them all.
The blood of Abel cried " Justice !" It was but right that
the blood should be revenged. Abel had no private pique
against Cain ; doubtless could Abel have done so, he would
have forgiven his brother ; but the blood spoke justly, and only-
asked its due when it shouted " Vengeance ! vengeance ! ven-
geance !" And Christ's blood speaketh justly, when it saith,
" Mercy !" Christ has as much right to demand mercy upon
sinners, as Abel's blood had to cry vengeance against Cain.
When Christ saves a sinner, he does not save him on the sly,
or against law or justice, but he saves him justly. Christ has
a light to save whom he will save, to have mercy on whom he
will have mercy, for he can do it justly, he can be just, and
yet be the justifier of the ungodly.
Again ; Abel's blood cried effectively. It did not cry in vain.
It said, " Revenge !" and revenge it had. And Christ's.blood,
blessed be his name, never cries in vain. It saith, " Pardon ;"
and pardon every believer shall have ; it saith, " Acceptance,"
and every penitent is accepted in the Beloved. If that blood
cry for me, I know it can not cry in vain. That all-prevailing
blood of Christ shall never miss its due ; it must, it shall bo
heard. Shall Abel's blood startle heaven, and shall not the
blood of Christ reach the ears of the Lord God of Sabaoth ?
And again, Abel's blood cries continually ; there is the mercy-
seat, and there is the cross, and the blood is dropping on the
mercy-seat. I have sinned a sin. Chnst says, " Father, for-
give him." There is one drop. I sin again : Christ intercedes
again. There is another drop. In fact, it is the drop that in-
tercedes. Christ need not speak with his mouth ; the drops of
blood, as they fall upon the mercy-scat, each seemeth to say,
" Forgive him ! forgive him ! forgive him !"
Dear friend, when thou hearest the voice of conscience,
stop and try to hear the voice of the blood too. Oh ! what a
precious thing it is to hear the voice of the blood of Christ.
You who do not know what that means, do not know the very
essence and joy of life ; but you who understand that, can
say, " The dropping of the blood is like the music of heaven
78 THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OP CHRIST.
upon earth." Poor sinner! I would ask thee to come and
listen to that voice that distills upon thy ears and upon thy
heart to-day. Thou art full of sin ; the Saviour bids thee lift
thine eyes to him. See there, his blood is flowing from his
head, his hands, his feet, and evevy drop that falls still cries,
" Father, O forgive them ! Father, O forgive them." And
each drop seems to say also as it falls, " It is finished : I have
made an end of sin, I have brought in everlasting righteous-
ness." Oh ! sweet, sweet language of the dropping of the
blood of Christ ! It " speaketh better things than that of
Abel."
II. Having thus, I trust, sufiiciently enlarged upon this sub-
ject, I shall now close by addressing you with a few earnest
words concerning the second point — the condition into
WHICH EYEEY CHRISTIAN IS BROUGHT. He is Said to be " comc
to the blood of sprinkhng." I shall make this a very brief
matter, but a very solemn and pointed one. My hearers, have
you come to the blood of Christ ? I do not ask you whether
you have come to a knowledge of doctrine, or of an observ-
ance of ceremonies, or of a certain form of experience; but
I ask you if you have come to the blood of Christ. If you
have, I know how you come. You must come to. the blood
of Christ with no merits of your own. Guilty, lost, and help-
less, you must come to that blood, and to that blood alone, for
your hopes ; you come to the cross of Christ and to that blood
too, I know, with a trembling and an aching heart. Some of
you remember how you first came, cast down and full of de-
spair ; but that blood recovered you. And this one thing I
know : if you have come to that blood once, you will come to
it every day. Your life will be just this — "looking unto
Jesus." And your whole conduct will be epitomized in this
— " to whom coming as unto a living stone." Not to whom
I have come, but to whom I am always coming. If thou hast
ever come to the blood of Christ thou wilt feel thy need of
coming to it every day. He that does not desire to wash in
that fountain every day, has never washed in it at all. I feel it
every day to be my joy and my privilege that tliere is still a
fountain opened. I trust I came to Christ years ago ; but ah !
THE VOICE OF THE BLOOD OF CHRIST. Y9
I could not trust to that, unless I could come again to-day.
Past experiences are doubtful things to a Chi'istian ; it is pres-
ent coming to Christ that must give us joy and comfort. Did
you not, some of you, sing, twenty years ago, that hymn,
*' My faith doth lay her hand
On that dear head of thine,
WTiile like a penitent I stand,
And there confess my sin ?"
Why, beloved, you can sing it as well to-day as you did then.
I was reading the other day some book, in which the author
states, that we are not to come to Christ as sinners as long as
we live ; he says we are to grow into saints. Ah ! he did not
know much, I am sure ; for saints are sinners still, and they
have always to come to Christ as sinners. If ever I go to the
throne of God as a saint, I get repulsed ; but when I go just
as a poor, humble, seeking sinner, relying upon nothing but thy
blood, O Jesus, I never can get a repulse, I am sure. To whom
coming as unto " blood that speaketh better things than that
of Abel." Let this be our experience every day.
But there are some here who confess that they never did
come. I can not exhort you, then, to come every day, but I
exhort you to come now for the first time. But you say,
*' May I come ?" Yes, if thou art wishing to come thou may-
est come ; if thou feelest that thou hast need to come thou
mayest come.
" AU the fitness he requireth.
Is to feel your need of him :"
And even
" This he gives you,
'Tis his Spirit's rising beam,"
But you say, " I must bring some merits." Hark to the blood
that speaks ! It says, " Sinner, I am full of merits : why bring
thy merits here?" "Ah! but," thou sayest, "I have too
much sin." Hark to the blood : as it falls, it cries, " Of many
offenses unto justification of life." "Ah! but," thou sayest,
" I know I am too guilty." Hark to the blood ! " Though
your sins be as scarlet I will make them as wool ; though they
80 THE VOICE OP THE BLOOD OF CHEIST.
be red like crimson they shall he whiter than snow." " N'ay,"
says one, " hut I have such a poor desire, I have such a little
faith." Hark to the blood ! " The bruised reed I will not
break, and smoking flax I will not quench." " ^iiy, but,"
thou sayest, "I know he will cast me out if I do come."
Hark to the blood ! " All that the Father giveth me shall
come to me, and him that cometh to me I will in no wise
cast out." "Nay, but," sayest thou, "I know I have so
many sins that I can not be forgiven." N'ow, hear the
blood once more, and I have done. " The blood of Jesus
Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." That is the blood's
testimony, and its testimony to thee. " There are three that
bear witness on earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the
blood;" and behold the blood's witness is — "The blood of
Jesus Christ, his Son, cleanseth us from all sin." Come, poor
sinner, cast thyself simply on that truth. Away with your
good works and all your trustings ! Lie simply flat on that
sweet word of Christ. Trust his blood ; and if thou canst
put thy trust alone in Jesus, in his sprinkled blood, it shall
speak in thy conscience better things than that of Abel.
I am afraid there are many who do not know what we mean
by believing. Good Dr. Chalmers once visiting a poor old
woman, told her to believe in Christ, and she said, " But that is
just the thing I do not know wh^t you mean by." So Dr.
Chalmers said, " Trust Christ." ISTow, that is just the mean-
ing of believing. Trust him with your soul ; trust him with
your sins; trust him with the future ; trust him with the past ;
trust him with every thing. Say,
" A guilty, weak, and worthless worm,
On Christ's kind arms I fall ;
Be thou my strength and righteousness,
My Jesus and my all."
May the Lord now give you his blessing ; for Jesus Christ's
sake. Amen.
SERMOK V.
THE NEW HEART.
" A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you ;
and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you
an heart of flesh." — ^Ezekiel, xxxvi. 26.
Behold a wonder of divine love. When God naaketh his
creatures, one creation he rcgardeth as sufficient, and should
they lapse from the condition in which he has created them,
he suffers them, as a rule, to endure the penalty of their trans-
gression, and to abide in the place into which they are fallen.
But here he makes an exception ; man, fallen man, created by
his Maker, pure and holy, hath wilfully and wickedly rebelled
against the Most High, and lost his first estate, but behold, he
is to be the subject of a new creation through the power of
God's Holy Spirit. Behold this and wonder ! What is man
compared with an angel ? Is he not little and insignificant ?
"And the angels which kept not their first estate, but left their
own habitation, he hath reserved in everlasting chains under
darkness unto the judgment of the great day." God hath no
mercy upon them ; he made them pure and holy, and they
ought to have remained so, but inasmuch as they wilfully re-
belled, he cast them down from their shining seats forever ; and
without a single promise of mercy, he hath bound them fast
in the fetters of destiny, to abide in eternal torment. But
wonder, ye heavens, the God who destroyed the angels stoops
from his highest throne in glory, and speaks to his creature
man, and thus saith unto him — " Now, thou hast fallen from
me even as the angels did ; thou hast grossly erred, and gone
astray from ray ways — not for thy sake do I this, but for mine
own name's sake — behold I will undo the mischief which thine
own hand hath done : I will take away that heart which has
4*
82 THE NEW HEART.
rebelled against me. Having made thee once, thou hast un-
made thyself — I will make thee over again. I will put my
hand a second time to the work ; once more shalt thou revolve
upon the potter's wheel, and I will make thee a vessel of
honor, fit for my gracious use. I will take away thy stony
heart, and give thee a heart of flesh ; a new heart will I give
thee ; a new spirit will I put within thee." Is not this a won-
der of divine sovereignty and of infinite grace, that mighty
angels should be cast into the fire forever, and yet God hath
made a covenant with man that he will renew and restore
him ?
And now^, my dear friends, I shall attempt this morning, first
of all, to show the necessity for the great promise contained
in my text^ that God will give us a new heart and a new spirit ;
and after that, I shall endeavor to show the nature of the great
woric which God worJcs in the soul, when he accomplishes this
proinise ; afterwards, a feio personal remarks to all my
hearers.
I. In the first j^lace, it is my business to endeavor to show
THE NECESSITY FOR THIS GREAT PROMISE. Not that it Uecds
any showing to the quickened and enlightened Christian ; but
this is for the conviction of the ungodly, and for the humbhng
of our carnal pride. O that this morning the gracious Spirit
may teach us our depravity, that we may thereby be driven
to seek the fulfilment of this mercy, which is most assuredly
and abundantly necessary, if we would be saved. You will
notice that in my text God does not promise to us that he will
improve our nature, that he will mend our broken hearts. No,
the promise is that he will give us new hearts and right spirits.
Human nature is too far gone ever to be mended. It is not a
house that is a little out of repair, with here and there a slate
blown from the roof, and here and there a piece of plaster
broken down from the ceiling. No, it is rotten throughout,
the very foundations have been sapped ; there is not a single
timbci- in it which has not been eaten by the worm, from its
uppermost roof to its lowest foundation ; there is no soundness
in it ; it is all rottenness and ready to fall. God doth not
attempt to mend ; he does not shore up the walls, and re-paint
THE NETT HEART. 83
the door ; he does not garnish and beautify, but he determines
that the old house shall be entirely swept away, and that he
will build a new one. It is too flir gone, I say, to be mended.
If it were only a little out of repair, it might be mended. If
only a wheel or two of that great thing called "manhood"
were out of repair, then he who made man might put the
whole to rights ; he might put a new cog where it had been
broken off, and another wheel where it had gone to ruin, and
the machine might work anew. But no, the whole of it is
out of repair ; there is not one lever which is not broken ; not
one axle which is not disturbed ; not one of the wheels which
act upon the others. The whole head is sick, and the whole
heart is faint. From the sole of the foot, to the crown of the
head, it is all wounds and bruises and putrifying sores. The
Lord, therefore, does not attempt the repairing of this thing ;
but he says, " I will give you a new heart, and a right spirit
will I put within you ; I will take away the heart of stone, I
will not try to soften it, I will let it be as stony as ever it w^as,
but I will take it away, and I will give you a new heart, and
it shall be a heart of flesh."
Now I shall endeavor to show that God is justified in this,
and that there was an abundant necessity for his resolution to
to do so. For in the first place, if you consider what human na-
ture has been, and what it is, you will not be very long before
you will say of it, " Ah, it is a hopeless case indeed."
Consider, then, for a moment how bad human nature must
be if we think how ill it has treated its God. I remember
William Huntingdon says in his autobiography, that one of
the sharpest sensations of pain that he felt after he had been
quickened by divine grace was this, *' He felt such pity for
God." I do not know that I ever met with the expression
elsewhere, but it is a very expressive one ; although I might
prefer to say sympathy with God and grief that he should bo
so evil entreated. Ah, my friends, there are manyjnen that
are forgotten, that are despised, and that are trampled on by
their fellows ; but there never was a man who was so despised
as the everlasting God has been. Many a man has been slan-
dered and abused, but never was man abused as God has been*
84 THE NEW HEAET.
Many have been treated cruelly and ungratefully, but never
one was treated as our God has been. Let us look back upon
our past lives — how ungrateful have we been to him ! It was
he who gave us being, and the first utterance of our lips should
have been in his praise ; and sodong as we were here, it was
our duty to have perpetually sung his glory ; but instead of
that, from our birth we spoke that which was false and un-
true, and unholy ; and since then we have continued to do the
isame. "We have never returned his mercies into his bosom
with gratitude and thankfulness ; but we have let them lie for-
gotten without a single hallelujah, from our carelessness con-
cerning the Most High, that he had entirely forgotten us, and
that therefore v/e were trying to forget him. It is so very sel-
dom that we think of him that one would imagine that surely
he never gave us occasion to think of him. Addison said, —
" When all thy mercies, my God,
My rising soul surveys,
Transported with the view I'm lost
In wonder, love, and praise."
But I think if we look back with the eye of penitence we shall
be lost in wonder, shame, and grief, for our cry will be, " What !
could I treat so good a friend so ill ? Have I had so gracious
a benefactor, and have I been so unmindful of him ; and so
devoted a fiither, and yet have I never embraced him ? Have
I never given him the kiss of my affectionate gratitude ? Have
I never studied to do something whereby I might let him know
that I was conscious of his kindness, and that I felt a grateful
return in my bosom for his love ?"
But worse than this, we have not only been forgetful of
him, but we have rebelled against him. We have assailed the
Most High. If we knew that anything was God-like we hated
it at once ; we have despised his people, we have called them
cants, and hypocrites, and Methodists. We have despised his
day ; he set it apart on purpose for our good, and that day we
take for our own pleasure and our own labor instead of conse-
crating it to him. He gave us a book as a love-token, and he
desired us to read it, for it was full of love to us ; and we have
kept it fast closed till the very spiders have spun their cobwebs
THE NEW HEART. 86
over the leaves. He opened a house of prayer and bade us go
there, and there would he meet with us and speak to us from
off the mercy seat ; but we have often preferred the theatre
to God's house, and have been found listening to any sound
rather than the voice which speaketh from heaven.
Ah, my friends, I say again there never was a man treated
by his fellow-creatures, even by the worst of men, so bad as
God has been, and yet while men have been ill treating him,
he has still continued to bless them ; he has put breath into
the nostrils of man, even while he has been cursing him ; has
given him food to eat even while he has been spending the
strength of his body in warfare against the Most High ; and
on the very Sabbath, when you have been breaking his com-
mandment and spending the day on your own lusts, it is he who
has given light to your eyes, breath to your lungs, and strength
to your nerves and sinews ; blessing you even while you have
been cursing him. Oh! it is a mercy that he is God, and
changeth not, or else we sons of Jacob would long ago have
been consumed, and justly too.
You may picture to yourselves, if you like, a poor creature
dying in a ditch. I trust that such a thing never happens in
this land, but such a thing might happen as a man who had
been rich on a sudden becoming poor, and all his friends de-
serting and leaving him ; he begs for bread and no man will
help him, until at last, without a rag to cover him, his poor
body yields up life in a ditch. This, I think, is the very ex-
treme of human negligence to mankind ; but Jesus Christ, the
Son of God, was treated even worse than this. It would have
been a thousand mercies to him if they had permitted him to
die unregarded in a ditch ; but that would have been too good
for human nature. He must know the very worst, and there-
fore God allowed human nature to take Christ and nail him to
the tree. He allowed it to stand and mock his thirst and offer
him vinegar, and taunt and jeer him in the extreme of his ago>
nios ; it allowed human nature to make him its jest and scorn,
and stand staring with lascivious and cruel eyes upon liis
stripped and naked body.
Oh ! shnme on manhood : never could there have been a
86 THE NEW HEART.
creature worse than man. The very beasts are better than
man, for man has all the worst attributes of the beasts and
none of their best. He has the fierceness of the lion without
its nobility ; he has the stubbornness of an ass without its pa-
tience ; he has all the devouring gluttony of the wolfj without
the wisdom which bids it avoid the trap. He is a carrion vul-
ture but he is never satisfied ; he is a very serpent with the
poison of asps beneath his tongfle, but he spits his venom afar
off as well as nigh. Ah, if you think of human nature as it
acts tow\irds God, you will say indeed it is too bad to be
mended, it must be made anew.
Again, there is another aspect in which we may regard the
sinfulness of human nature : that is its pride. It is the very
worst phase of man — that he is so proud. Beloved, pride is
woven into the very warp and woof of our nature, and we
shall never get rid of it until we are wrapped in our winding
sheet. It is astonishing, that when we are at our prayers —
when we try to make use of humble expressions, we are be-
trayed into pride. It was but the other day, I found myself
on my knees making use of such an expression as this : " O
Lord, I grieve before thee, that ever Z should have been such
a sinner as I have been. Oh that i" should ever have revolted
and rebelled as I have done." There was pride in that ; for
who am I ? Was there any wonder in it ? I ought to have
known that I was myself so sinful that there was no wonder
that I should have gone astray. The wonder was, that I had
not been even worse, and there the credit was due to God, not
to myself. So that when we are trying to be humble, we may
be foolishly rushing into pride. What a strange thing it is to
see a sinful, guilty wretch proud of his morality ! and yet that
is a thing you may see every day. A man who is an enemy
to God, proud of his honesty, and yet h^ is robbing God ; a
man proud of his chastity, and yet if he knev»^ his own thoughts,
they are full of lasciviousness and uncleanness ; a man pi-oud
of the praise of his fellows, while he knows himself that he
has the blame of his own conscience and the blame of God
Almighty. It is a wild, strange thing to think that man should
be proud, when he has nothing to be proud of. A living, ani-
THE NEW HEART. 87
mated lump of clay — defiled and filthy, a living hell, and yet
proud. I, a base-born son of one that robbed his Master's
garden of old, and went astray and would not be obedient ;
of one that sunk his whole estate for the paltry bribe of a sin-
gle apple ! and yet proud of my ancestry I I, who am living
on God's daily charity to be proud of my wealth ! when I have
not a single farthing with which to bless myseUj unless God
chooses to give it to me. I, that came naked into this world,
and must go naked out of it ! I, proud of my riches — what a
strange thing ! I, a wild ass's colt, a fool that knoweth noth-
ing, proud of my learning ! Oh, what a strange thing, that
the fool called man, should call himself a doctor, and make
himself a master of all arts, when he is a master of none, and
is most a fool when he thinks his wisdom culminates to its
highest point. And oh, strangest of all, that man who has a
deceitful heart^full of all manner of evil concupiscence, and
adultery, idolatry, and lust, should yet talk about being a good-
hearted fellow, and should pride himself upon having at least
some good points about him, which may deserve the venera-
tion of his fellows, if not some consideration from the Most
High. Ah, human nature, this is, then, thine own condemna-
tion, that thou art insanely j^roud, while thou hast nothing to
be proud of. Write *' Ichabod" upon it. The glory has de-
parted for ever from human nature. Let it be put away, and
let God give us something new for the old can never be made
better. It is helplessly insane, decrepit, and defiled.
Furthermore, it is quite certain that human nature can not
be made better, for many have tried it, but they have always
failed. A man, trying to improve human nature, is like trying
to change the position of a weathercock, by turning it round
to the east when the wind is blowing west ; he has but to take
his hand oflf and it will be back again to its place. So have I
seen a man trying to restrain nature — he is an angry bad-tem-
pered man, and ho is trying to cure himself a bit and he does,
but it comes out, and if it does not burn right out, and the
sparks do not fly abroad, yet it burns within his bones till they
grow white with the heat of malice and there remains within
his heart a residuum of the ashes of revenge. I have seen a
88 THE NEW HEART.
man trying to make himself religious, and what a monstrosity
he makes himself in trying to do it, for his legs are not equal,
and he goes limping along in the service of God ; he is a de-
formed and ungainly creature, and all who look at him can
very soon discover the inconsistencies of his profession. Oh !
we say, it is vain for such a man to try to appear white, as
well might the Ethiopian think he could make his skin appear
white by applying cosmetics to it, or as well might the leopard
think that his spots might be brushed away as for this man to
imagine that he can conceal the baseness of his nature by any
attempts at religion.
Ah, I know I tried a long time to improve myself, but I
never did make much of it ; I found I had a devil within me
when I began, and I had ten devils when I left off. Instead
of becoming better I became worse ; I had now got the devil
of self-righteousness, of self-trust, and self conceit, and many
others had come and taken up their lodging-place. While I
was busy sweeping my house, and garnishing it, behold the
one that I sought to get rid of, and which had only gone for
a little season, returned and brought with him seven other
spirits more wicked, than himself, and they entered in and
dwelt there. Ah, you may try and reform, dear friends, but
you will find you can not do it, and remember even if you
could, still it would not be the work which God requires ; he
will not have reformation, he will have renovation, he will
have a new heart, and not a heart changed a little for the
better.
But, once again, you will easily perceive we must have a
new heart when you consider what are the employments and
the enjoyments of the Christian religion. The nature that
can feed on the garbage of sin, and devour the carrion of ini-
quity, is not the nature that ever can sing the praises of God
and rejoice in his holy name. The raven yonder has been
feeding on the most loathsome food, do you expect that she
shall have all the kindliness of the dove and toy with the
maiden in her bower. Not unless you could change the raven
into a dove ; for as long as it is a raven its old propensities
will cling to it and it will be incapable of any thing above the
THE NEW HEART. 89
raven's nature. Ye have seen the vulture gorge to his very
full with the very filthiest of flesh, and do you expect to see
that vulture sitting on tlie spray singing God's praises with its
hoarse screaming and croaking throat ? and do you imagine
you will see it feeding like the barn-door fowl on the clean
grain, unless its character and disposition be entirely changed ?
Impossible. Can you imagine that the lion will he down with
the ox, and eat straw like the bullock, so long as it is a lion ?
Xo ; there must be a change. You may put on it the sheep's
clothing but you can not make it a sheep unless the lion-hke
nature be taken away. Try and improve the lion as long as
ye like — Van Amburgh himself, if he had improved his lions
for a thousand years, could nof have made them into sheep.
And you may try to improve the raven or the vulture as long
as you please, but you can not improve them into a dove —
there must be a total change of character, and you ask me,
then, whether it can be possible for a man that has sung the
lascivious song of the drunkard, and has defiled his body with
uncleanness, and has cursed God, to sing the high praises of
God in heaven as well as he who has long loved the ways of
purity and communion with Christ ? I answer, no, never,
unless his nature be entirely changed. For if his nature
remain what it is, improve it as you may, you can make
nothing better of it. So long as his heart is what it is, you
can never bring it to be capable of the high delights of the
spiritual nature of the child of God. Therefore, beloved,
there must assuredly be a new nature put into us.
And yet once again, and I will have concluded upon this
point. God hates a depraved nature, and therefore it must
be taken away, before we can be accepted in him. God does
not hate our sin so much as he does our sinfulness. It is not
the overflowing of the spring, it is the well itself. It is not
the arrow that doth shoot from the bow of om- depravity ; it
> the arm itself that doth hold the bow of sin, and the mo-
tive that wings the arrow against God. The Lord is angry
not only against our overt acts, but against the nature which
dictates the acts. God is not so short-sighted as merely to
look at the surface, be looks at the source and fountaiu. He
90 THE NEW HEART.
saith, " in vain shall it be, though thou shouldst make the fruit
good, if the tree remain corrupt. In vain shalt thou attempt
to sweeten the waters, so long as the fountain itself is defiled."
God is angry with man's heart ; he has a hatred against man's
dejoraved nature, and he will have it taken away, he will have
it totally cleansed before he will admit that man into any
communion wdth himself — and above all, into the sweet com
munion of Paradise. There is, therefore, a demand for a new
nature, and that we must have, or otherwise we can never see
his face with acceptance.
II. And now it shall be my joyful business to endeavor, in
the second place, to set before you veiy briefly the nature
OP THIS GREAT CHANGE VTHICH THE HoLY SpIRIT WORKS IN
US.
And, I may begin by observing, that it is a divine work
from first to last. To give a man a new heart and a new
spirit is God's work, and the work of God alone. Arminian-
ism falls to the ground when we come to this point. Nothing
will do here but that old-fashioned truth men call Calvinism.
" Salvation is of t/ie Lord alone /" this truth will stand the
test of ages and can never be moved, because it is the im-
mutable truth of the living God. And all the way in salva-
tion we have to learn this truth, but especially when we come
here to this particular and indispensable part of salvation, the
making of a new heart within us. That must be God's work;
man may reform himself, but how can man give himself a new
heart ? I need, not enlarge upon the thought, it will strike
you in a moment, that the very nature of the change, and the
terms in which it is mentioned here, put it beyond all power
of man. How can man put into himself a new heart, for the
heart being the motive power of all life, must exert itself before
any thing can be done ? But how could the exertions of an old
heart bring forth a new heart ? Can you imagine for a mo-
ment a tree with a rotten heart, by its own vital energy giv-
ing to itself a new young heart ? You can not suppose such
a thing. If the heart were originally right, and the defects
were only in some branch of the tree, you can conceive that
the tree, through the vital power of its sap within its heart,
THE NEW HEART. 91
might rectify the wrong. We have he»ird of some kind ot
insects that have lost their limbs, and by their vital power
have been able to recover them again. But take away the
seat of the vital power — the heart ; lay the disease there ; and
what power is there that can, by any possibility, rectify it,
unless it be a power fi'om without — ^in fact, a power from
above ? Oh, beloved, there never was a man yet, that did so
much as the turn of a hair towards making himself a new
heart. He must lie passive there — he shall become active
afterwards — but in the moment when God puts a new life into
the soul, the man is passive : and if there be aught of activity,
it is an active resistance against it, until God, by overcoming,
victorious grace, gets the mastery over man's will.
Once, again ; this is a grcuiious change. When God puts a
new heart into man, it is not because man deserves a new heart
— because there was any thing good in his nature, that could
have prompted God to give him a new spirit. The Lord
simply gives a man a new heart because he wishes to do it ;
that is his only reason. " But," you say, " suppose a man
cries for a new heart ?" I answer, no man ever did cry for a
new heart until he had got one ; for the cry for a new heart
proves that there is a new heart there already. But, says one,
" Are we not to seek for a right spirit ?" Yes, I know it is
your duty — but I equally know it is a duty you will never ful-
lill. You are commanded to make to yourselves new hearts,
but I know you will never attempt to do it, until God first of
all moves you thereunto. As soon as you begin to seek a new
heart, it is presumptive evidence that the new heart is there
already, in its germ, for there would not be this germinating
in prayer, unless the seeds were there before it.
" But," says one, " suppose the man has not a new heart,
and were earnestly to seek one, would he have it ?" You
must not make impossible suppositions ; so long as the man's
Iieart is depraved and vile, he never will do such a thing. I
can not, therefore, tell you what might happen, if he did what
lie never will do. I can not answer your suppositions ; if you
suppose yourself into a difficulty you must suppose yourself
out of it. But the fact is, that no man ever did, or ever will
92 THE NEW HEAET.
seek a new heart, or a right spirit, until, first of all, the grace
of God begins with him. If there be a Christian here, who
began with God, let him publish it to the world ; let us hear
for once that there was a man who was beforehand with his
Maker. But I have never met with such a case ; all Chris-
tian people declare that God w^as first with them, and they
will all sing,
" 'Twas the same love that spread the feast,
That sweetly forced me in,
Else I had still refused to taste.
And perished in my sua."
It is a gracious change, freely given without any merit of
the creature, without any desire or good-will coming before-
hand. God doeth it of his own pleasure, not according to
man's will.
Once more ; it is a victorious effort of divine grace. When
God first begins the work of changing the heart, he finds man
totally averse to any such a thing. Man by nature kicks and
struggles against God, he will not be saved. I must confess
I never would have been saved, if I could have helped it. As
long as -ever I could, I rebelled and revolted, and struggled
against God. When he would have me pray, I would not
pray : when he would have me listen to the sound of the min-
istry, I would not. And when I heard, and the tear rolled
down my cheek, I wiped it away and defied him to melt my
heart. When my heart was a little touched, I tried to divert
it with sinful pleasures. And when that would not do, I tried
self-righteousness, and would not then have been saved, until
I was hemmed in, and then he gave me the effectual blow of
grace, and there w^as no resisting that irresistible eftbrt of his
grace. It conquered my depraved will, and made me bow
myself before the scepter of his grace. And so it is in every
case. 3Ian revolts against his Maker and his Saviour ; but where
God determines to save, save he will. God will have the sin-
ner, if he designs to have him. God never was thwarted yet
in any one of his purposes. Man does resist with all his might,
but all the might of man, tremendous though it be for sin, is
THE NEW HEART. 93
not equal to the majestic might of the Most High, when he
rideth forth in the chariot of his salvation. He doth irresisti-
bly save and victoriously conquer man's heart.
And furthermore, this change is instantaneous. To sanctify
a man is the work of the whole life ; but to give a man a new
heart is the work of an instant. In one solitary second, swifter
than the lightning flash, God can put a new heart into a man,
and make him a new creature in Christ Jesus. You may be
sitting where you are to-day, an enemy to God, with a wicked
heart within, hard as a stone, and dead and cold ; but if the
Lord wills it, the living spark shall drop into your soul, and in
that moment you will begin to tremble — begin to feel ; you
will confess your sin, and fly to Christ for mercy. Other parts
of salvation are done gradually ; but regeneration is the in-
stantaneous work of God's sovereign, efiectual, and irresistible
grace.
lU. Now we have in this subject a grand field of hope and
encouragement to the very vilest of sinners. My hearers, let
me very aflectionately address you, pouring out my heart be-
fore you for a moment or two. There are some of you here
present who are seeking after mercy; for many-a-day you
have been in prayer in secret, till your very knees seemed
sore with the oftenness of your intercession. Your cry to
God has been, " Create me in a clean heart, and renew a right
spirit within me." Let me comfort you by this reflection, that
your prayer is already heard. You have a new heart and a
right spirit : perhaps you will not be able to perceive the truth
of this utterance for months to come, therefore continue in
prayer till God shall open your eyes, so that you may see that
the prayer is answered ; but rest assured it is answered already.
If thou hatefit sin, that is not human nature ; if thou longest
to be a friend of God, that is not human nature ; if thou de-
sirest to be saved by Christ, it is not human nature, if thou
desirest that without any stipulations of thine own, if thou art
this day willing that Christ should take thee to be his own, to
have and to hold, through life and through death, if thou art
willing to live in his service, and if needful to die for his honor,
that is not of human nature — that is the work of divme
04 THE NEW. HEABT.
grace. There is something good in thee ah-eady ; the Lord
hath begun a good wovk in thy heart, and he will carry it on
even unto the end. All these feelings of thine are more than
thou ever couldst have attained of thyself. God has helped thee
up this divine ladder of grace, and as sure as he has brought
thee up so many staves of it, he will carry thee to the very
summit, till he grasps thee in the arms of his love in glory
everlasting.
There are others of you here, however, who have not pro-
ceeded so far, but you are driven to despair. The devil has
told you that you can not be saved ; you have been too guilty,
too vile. Any other people in the world might find mercy,
but not you, for you do not deserve to be saved. Hear me
then, dear friend. Have I not tried to make it as plain as the
sunbeam all through this service, that God never saves a man
for the sake of what he is, and that he does not either begin
or carry on the work in us because there is anything good in
us. The greatest sinner is just as eligible for divine mercy as
the very least of sinners. He who has been a ringleader in
crime, I repeat, is just as eligible for God's sovereign grace,
as he that has been a very paragon of morality. For God
wants nothing of us. It is not as it is with the plowman ; he
does not desire to plow all day upon the rocks, and send his
horses upon the san-d ; he wants a fertile soil to begin with, but
God does not. He will begin with the rocky soil, and he will
pound that rocky heart of yours until it turns into the rich
black mould of penitential grief, and then he will scatter the
living seed in that mould, till it brings forth a hundred fold.
But he wants nothing of you, to begin with. He can take
you, a thief, a drunkard, a harlot, or whoever you may be ; he
then can bring you on your knees, make you cry for mercy, and
make you lead a holy life, and keep you unto the end. " Oh !'*
says one, " I wish he would do that to me, then." Well, soul,
if that be a true wish, he will. If thou desirest this day that
thou shouldst be saved, there never was an unwilling God
where there was a willing sinner. Sinner, if thou wiliest to
be saved, God willeth not the death of any, but rather that
they should come to repentance ; and thou art freely invited
THE KEW HEAHT. 05
this morning to turn thine eye to the cross of Christ. Jesus
Christ hns borne the sins of men, and carried tlieir sorrows ;
thou art bidden to look there, and trust there, simply and im-
plicitly. Then thou art saved. That very wish, if it be a sin-
cere one, show^s that God lias just now been begetting thee
again to a lively hope. If that sincere wish shall endure, it
will be abundant evidence that the Lord hath brought thee to
himself, and that thou art and shalt be his.
And now reflect every one of you — you that are not con-
verted — that we are all this morning in the hands of God. We
deserve to be damned : if God damneth us, there is not a sin-
gle word that will be heard against his doing it. We can not
save ourselves ; we lie entirely in his hands ; like a moth that
lies under the finger, he can crush us now, if he pleases, or he
can let us go and save us. What reflections ought to cross
our mind, if we believe that. Why, we ought to cast our-
selves on our faces, as soon as we reach our homes, and cry,
" Great God, save me, a sinner ! Save m6 ! I renounce all
merit for I have none ; I deserve to be lost ; Lord, save me,
foi\ Christ's sake;" and as the Lord my God liveth, before
whom I stand, there is not one of you that shall do this who
shall find my God shut the gates of mercy against you. Go
and try him, sinner ; go and try him ! Fall upon thy knees in
thy chamber this day, and try my Master. See if he will not
forgive you. You think too harshly of him. He is a great
deal kinder than you think he is. You think he is a hard mas-
ter, but he is not. I thought he was severe and angry, and
when I sought him, " Surely," I said, " if he accepteth all the
world beside, he will reject me." But I know he took me to
his bosom ; and when I thought he would spurn me for ever,
he said, " I have blotted out, as a thick cloud, thy transgres-
sions, and as a cloud thy sins," and I wondered how it was,
and I do wonder now. But it shall be so in your case. Only
try him, I beseech thee. The Lord help thee to try him, and
to him shall be the glory, and to thee shall be happiness and
bliss, for ever and ever.
SERMON YI.
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
" Our Father which art in heaven." — Matt., vi. 9.
I THINK there is room for very great doubt, whether our
Saviour intended the prayer of which our text forms a part,
to be used in the manner in which it is commonly employed
among professing Christians. It is the custom of many per-
sons to repeat it as their morning prayer, and they think that
when they have repeated these sacred words, they have done
enough. I believe that this prayer was never intended for
universal use. Jesus Christ taught it not to all men, but to
his disciples, and it is a prayer adapted only to those who are
the possessors of grace, and are truly converted. In the lips
of an ungodly man it is entirely out of place. Doth not one
say, " Ye are of your father, the devil, for his works ye do ?"
Why, then, should ye mock God by saying, " Our Father
which art in heaven." For how can he be your Father?
Have ye two Fathers ? And if he be a Father where is his
honor ? Where is his love ? You neither honor nor love him
and yet you presumptuously and blasphemously approach him,
and say, " Our Father," when your heart is attached still to
sin, and your life is opposed to his law, and you therefore
prove yourself to be an heir of wrath, and not a child of grace.
Oh ! I beseech you, leave off sacrilegiously employing these
sacred words ; and until you can in sincerity and truth say,
"Our Father which art in heaven," and in your lives seek to
honor his holy name, do not offer him the language of the
hypocrite, which is an abomination to him.
I very much question also, whether this prayer was intended
to be used by Christ's own disciples as a constant form of
prayer. It seems to me that Christ gave it as a model, where*
TUE FATnERHOOD OF GOD. 97
by we are to fashion all our prayers, and I think we may use
it to edification, and with great sincerity and earnestness, at
certain times and seasons. I have seen an architect form the
model of a building he intends to erect of plaster or wood ;
but I never had an idea that it was intended for me to live in.
I have seen an artist trace on apiece of brown paper, perhaps,
a design which he intended afterward to work out on more
costly stuff; but I never imagined the design to be the thing
itself. This prayer of Christ is a great chart, as it were ; but
I can not cross the sea on a chart. It is a map ; but a man is
not a traveler because he puts his fingers across the map. And
so a man may use this form of prayer, and yet be a total stran-
ger to the great design of Christ in teaching it to his disciples.
I feel that I can not use this prayer to the omission of others.
•Great as it is, it does not express all I desire to say to my
Father which is in heaven. There are many sins which I
must confess separately and distinctly ; and the various other
petitions which this prayer contains, require, I feel, to be ex-
panded, when I come before God in private ; and I must pour
out my heart in the language which his Spirit gives me ; and
more than that, I must trust in the Spirit to speak the unut-
terable groanings of my spirit, when my lips can not actually
express all the emotions of my heart. Let none despise this
prayer ; ' it is matchless, and if we must have forms of prayer,
let us have this first, foremost, and chief; but let none think
that Christ would tie his disciples to the constant and only use
of this. Let us rather draw near to the throne of the heav-
enly grace with boldness, as children coming to a father, and
let us tell our wants and our sorrows in the language which
the Holy Spirit teacheth us.
And now, coming to the text, there are several things wo
shall have to notice here. And first, I shall dwell for a few
minutes upon the double relationship mentioned. " Our Father
which art in heaven." There is so7ishi2) — "Father;" there is
brotherhood^ for it says, " Our Father;" and if he be the com-
mon father of us, then we must be brothers ; for there are two
relationships, sonship and brotherhood. In the next place, I
shall utter a few words upon the spirit which is necessary to
5
98 THE PATHEUHOOD OP GOD.
lielp US before we are able to utter this — " The spirit of adxyp-
tion^'' whereby we can cry, " Our Father which art in heaven."
And then, thirdly, I shall conclude with the double argmne^it
of the text^ for it is really an argument upon which the rest of
the prayer is based. " Our Father which art in heaven," is,
as it were, a strong argument used before supplication itself is
presented.
I. First, THE DOUBLE RELATIONSHIP IMPLIED IN THE TEXT.
We take the first one. Here is sonship — "Our Father
which art in heaven." How are we to understand this, and in
what sense are we the sons and daughters of God ? Some
say that the Fatherhood of God is universal, and that every
man, from the fact of his being created by God, is necessarily
God's son, and that therefore every man has a right to aj)-
proach the throne of God, and say, " Our Father which ait
in heaven." To that I must demur. I believe that in this
prayer we are to come before God, looking upon him not as
our Father through creation, but as our Father through adop-
tion and the new birth. I will very briefly state my reasons
for this.
I have never been able to see that creation necessarily im-
plies fatherhood. I believe God has made many things that
are not his children. Hath he not made the heavens and the
earth, the sea and the fulness thereof? and are they his child-
ren ? You say these are not rational and intelligent beings ;
but he made the angels, who stand in an emhiently high and
holy position, are they his children? "Unto which of the
angels said he at any time, thou art my son?" I do not find,
as a rule, that angels are called the children of God ; and I
must demur to the idea that mere creation brings God neces-
sarily into the relationship of a Father. Doth not the potter
make vessels of clay ? But is the potter the fiither of the
vase, or of the bottle ? No, beloved, it needs something be-
yond cieation to constitute the relationship, and those who
can say, " Our Father which art in heaven," are something
more than God's creatures : they have been adopted into his
family. He has taken them out of the old black family in
which they were born ; he has washed them, and cleansed
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 09
them, and given them a new name and a new spirit, and made
them "heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ ;" and all this
of his own free, sovereign, unmerited, distinguishing grace.
And having adopted them to be his children, he has, in the
next place, regenerated them hy the Spirit of the limng God.
He has " begotten them again unto a lively hope, by the res-
urrection of Jesus Christ from the dead," and no man hath a
right to claim God as his Father, unless he feeleth in his soul,
and believetli, solemnly, through the faith of God's election,
that he has been adopted into the one family of God which is
in heaven and earth, and that he has been regenerated or born
again.
This relationship also involves love. If God be my Father^
he loves me. And oh, how he. loves* me! When God is a
Husband he is the best of husbands. Widows, somehow or
other, are always well cared for. When God is a Friend, he
is the best of friends, and sticketh closer than a brother ; and
when he is a Father he is the best of fathers. O fathers ! per-
haps ye do not know how much ye love your children. When
they are sick ye find it out, for ye stand by their couches and
ye pity them, as their little frames are writhing in pain. Well,
" like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them
that fear him." Ye know how ye love your children too,
when they grieve you by their sin ; anger arises, and you are
rendy to chasten them, but no sooner is the tear in their eye,
than your hand is heavy, and you feel that you had rather
smite yourself than smite them ; and every time you smite
them you seem to cry, " Oh that I should have thus to afflict
my child for his sin ! Oh that I could sulTer in his stead !"
And God, even our Father, " doth not afflict willingly." Is
not that a sweet thing ? lie is, as it were, compelled to it ;
vcn the Eternal arm is not willing to do it ; it is only his
L^reat love and deep wisdom that brings down the blow. But
If you want to know your love to your children, you will know
t most if they die. David knew that he loved his son Absalom,
;nt he never knew how much he loved him till he heard that ho
.id been slain, and that he had been buried by Joab. "Precious
a the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints." Ho knows
100 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
then how deep and pure is the love that death can never sever,
and the terrors of eternity never can unbind. But parents,
although ye love your children much, and ye know it, ye do
•not know, and ye can not tell how deep is the unfathomable
abyss of the love of God to you. Go out at midnight and
consider the heavens, the work of God's lingers, the moon
and the stars which he hath ordained ; and I am sure you will
say, " What is man, that thou shouldest be mindful of him ?"
But, more than all, you will wonder, not at your loving him,
but that while he has all these treasures, he should set his heart
upon so insigniticant a creature as man. And the sonship that
God has given us is not a mere name ; there is all our Father's
great heart given to us in the moment when he claims us as his
sons. *
But if this sonship involves the love of God to us, it in-
volves, also, the duty of love to God. Oh ! heir of heaven, if
thou art God's child, wilt thou not love thy Father ? What
son is there that loveth not his father ? Is he not less than
human if he loveth not his sire ? Let his name be blotted
from the book of remembrance that loveth not the woman
that brought him forth, and the father that begat him. And
we, the chosen favorites of Heaven, adopted and regener-
ated, shall not we love him? Shall we not say, "Whom
have I in heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that
I desire in comparison with thee ? My Father, I will give thee
my heart ; thou shalt be the guide of my youth ; thou dost
love me, and the little heart that I have shall be all thine own
for ever."
Furthermore, if we say, " Our Father which art in heaven,"
we must recollect that our being sons involves the duty of
obedience to God. When I say " My Father," it is not for me
to rise up and go in rebellion against his wishes ; if he be a
father, let me note his commands, and let me reverentially
'Obey ; if he hath said " Do this," let me do it, not because I
r^^i^d him, but because I love him ; and if he forbids me to do
^4^'^Mttg, let me avoid it. There are some persons in the
^'^^^^^t^?ho^^kve not the spirit of adoption, and they can never
^^b¥-liii<btfghi't</'^d^' thing unless they see some advantage to
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 101
themselves in it ; but with the child of God, there is no mo-
tive at all ; he can boldly say, "I hiivo ^/^i^^rodone anglji thing
since I have followed Christ, becausd I lioped to get to heaven
by it, nor have I ever avoided a w/-ong thing 'l:3^<2»itS]pjI,yas
afraid of being damned." For" the' fcbird bf God knows his
good works do not make him acceptable to God, for he was
acceptable to God by Jesus Christ long before he had any
good works ; and the fear of hell does not affect him, for he
knows that he is delivered from that, and shall never come
into condemnation, having passed from death unto life. He
acts from pure love and gratitude, and imtil we come to that
state of mind, I do not think there is such a thing as virtue ;
for if a man has done what is called a virtuous action because
he hoped to get to heaven or to avoid hell by it, whom has
he served ? Has he not seiwed himself? and what is that but
selfishness ? But the man who has no hell to fear, and no hell
to gain, because heaven is his own, and hell he can never en-
ter, that man is capable of virtue ; for he says —
"Now for the love I bear his name,
"WTiat was my gain I count my loss ;
I pour contempt on all my shame,
And nail my glory to bis cross ;" —
to his cross who loved, and lived, and died for me who loved
liim not, but who desires now to love him with all my heart,
and soul and strength.
And now permit me to draw your attention to one encour-
aging thought that may help to cheer the downcast and Satan-
tempted child of God. Sons/up is a thing which all the iii-
flrmities of our fleshy and all the si?is into which we are hur-
ried hy temptation^ can never violate or weaken. A man
hath a child; that child on a sudden is bereaved of its senses;
it becomes an idiot. What a grief that is to a father, for a
child to become a lunatic or an idiot, and to exist only as an
r^nimal, apparently without a soul ! But the iiliot child is a
liild, and the lunatic child is a child still ; and if we are the
fathers of such children, they are ours, and all the idiocy and
all the lunacy that can possibly befall them can never shake
102 THE FATHEKHOOD OF GOD.
the fact that they are our sons. Oh ! what a mercy, when we
transje^'- tJiis to G'od'^ oase and ours! How foolish we are
sometimes— how worse than foolish ! We may say as David
didj Vl^vis-als'a' b(^3st bfsfore thee." God brings before us
the truths of his kingdom ; we can not see their beauty, we
can not appreciate them ; we seem to be as if we were totally
demented, ignorant, unstal:)le, weary, and apt to slide. But,
thanks be unto God, we are his children still ! And if there
be any thing worse that can happen to a fither than his child
becoming a lunatic or an idiot, it is when he grows up to be
wicked. It is well said, " Children are doubtful blessings." I
remember to have heard one say, and, as I thought, not very
kindly, to a mother with an infant at her breast — " Woman !
you may be suckling a viper there." It stung the mother to
the quick, and it was not needful to have said it. But how
often is it the fact, that the child that has hung upon its
mother's breast, when it grows up, brings that mother's gray
hairs with sorrow to the grave !
" Oh ! sharper than a serpent's tooth
To have a thankless child I"
ungodly, vile, debauched — a blasphemer ! But mark, breth-
ren : if he be a child he can not lose his childship, nor we our
fatherhood, be he who or what he may. Let him be trans-
ported beyond the seas, he is still our son ; let us deny him
the house, because his conversation might lead others of our
children into sin, yet our son he is, and must be ; and when
the sod shall cover his head and ours, '^ father and son" shall
still be on the tombstone. The lelationship never can be
severed as long as time shall last. The jirodigal was his
father's son when he was among the harlots, and when he
was feeding swine ; and God's children are God's children
anywhere and everywhere, and shall be even unto the end.
Nothing can sever that sacred tie, or divide us from his
heart.
There is yet another thought that may cheer the Little-
faiths and Feeble-minds. The fatherhood of God is common
to all his children. Ah ! Little-faith, you have often looked
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 103
up to Mr. Great-heart, and you have said, " Oh that I had the
courage of Great-heart, that I could wield his sword and cut
old gi;int Grim in pieces! Oh that I could fight the dragons,
and that I could overcome the lions ! But I am stumbhng at
eveiy straw, and a shadow makes me afraid." List thee,
Little-faith. Great-heart is God's child, and you are God's
child too ; and Great-heart is not a whit more God's child than
you are. David was the son of God, but not more the son of
God than thou. Peter and Paul, the highly-favored apostles,
were of the family of the Most High ; and so are you. You
have children yourselves ; one is a son grown up, and out in
business, perhaj^s, and you have another, a little thing stiU in
arms. Which is the most your child, the little one or the big
one ? " Both alike," you say. This " little one is my child,
near my heart ; and the big one is my child too." And so the
little Christian is as much a child of God as the great one.
"This cov'nant stands secure,
Though earth's old pillars bow ;
The strong, the feeble, and the weak,
Are one in Jesus now ;"
and they are one in the family of God, and no one is ahead of
the other. One may have more grace than another, but God
does not love one more than another. One may be an older
child than another, but he is not more a child ; one may do
more mighty works, and may bring more glory to his Father,
but he whose name is the least in the kingdom of heaven is as
much the child of God as lie who stands among the king's
miglity men. Let this cheer and comfort us, when we draw
near to God and say, " Our Father which art in heaven."
I will make but one more remark before I leave this point,
namely, this — that our hclncj the children of God brings with it
innumerable privileges. Time would fail me, if I were to at-
tempt to read the long roll of the Christian's joyous privileges.
I am God's child: if so, he will clothe me; my shoes shall be
iron and brass ; he will array me with the robe of my Saviour's
righteousness, for he has said, " Bring forth the best robe and
put it on him," and he lias also said that he will put a crown
104 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
of pure gold upon my head, and inasmuch as I am a king's
son, I shall have a royal crown. Am I his child ? Then he
will feed me ; my bread shall be given me, and my water shall
be sure ; he that feeds the ravens will never let his children
starve. If a good husbandman feeds the barn-door fowl, and
the sheep, and the bullocks, certainly his children shall not
starve. Does my Father deck the lily, and shall I go naked ?
Does he feed the fowls of the heaven that sow not, neither do
they reap ; and shall I feel necessity ? God forbid ! My
Father knoweth what things I have need of before I ask him,
and he will give all I want. If I be his child, then I have a
portion in his heart here, and I shall have a portion in his
house above ; for " if children then heirs, heirs of God and
joint heirs with Christ." " If we suffer with him we shall be
also glorified together." And oh ! brethren, what a prospect
this opens up ! The fact of our being heirs of God and joint
heirs with Christ, proves that all things are ours — the gift of
God the purchase of a Saviour's blood.
" This world is ours, and worlds to come ;
Earth is our lodge, and heaven our home."
Are there crowns ? They are mine if I be an heir. Are there
thrones? Are there dominions? Are there harps, palm,
branches, white robes ? Are there glories that eye hath not
seen ? and is there music that ear hath not heard ? All these
are mine, if I be a child of God. " And it doth not yet ap-
pear what we shall be, but we know that when he shall appear,
we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." Talk of
princes, and kings, and potentates ! Then* inheritance is but
a pitiful foot of land, across which the bird's wing can soon
direct its flight ; but the broad acres of the Christian can
not be measured by eternity. He is rich, without a limit to
his wealth ; he is blessed, without a boundary to his bliss.
All this, and more than I can enumerate, is involved in our
being able to say, " Our Father which art in heaven."
The second tie of the text is brotherhood. It does not say
my Father, but our Father. Then it seems there are a great
many in the family. I will be very brief on this point.
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 105
" Our Father." When you pray that prayer, remember you
have a good many brothers and sisters that do not know their
Father yet, and you must include them all ; for all God's elect
ones, though tliey be uncalled as yet, are still his children,
though they know it not. In one of Krummacher's beautiful
little parables there is a story like this : " Abraham sat one
day in the grove at Mamre, leaning his head on his hand, and
{^on-owing. Then his son Isaac came to him, and said, ' My
father, why moumest thou ? what aileth thee ?' Abraham
answered and said, 'My soul mourneth for the people of
Canaan, that they know not the Lord, but walk in their own
ways, in darkness and foolishness.' ' Oh, my father,' answered
the son, * is it only this ? Let not thy heart be sorrowful ; for
are not these their own ways?' Then the patriarch rose up
from his seat, and said, ' Come now, follow me.' And he led
the youth to a hut, and said to him, 'Behold.' There was a
child which was imbecile, and the mother sat weeping by it.
Abraham asked her, ' Why weepest thou ?' Then the mother
said, ' Alas, this my son eateth and drinketh, and we minister
unto him ; but he knows not the face of his father, nor of his
mother. Thus his life is lost, and this source of joy is sealed
to him.' " Is not that a sweet little parable, to teach us how
we ought to pray for the many sheep that are not yet of the
fold, but which must be brought in ? We ought to pray for
them, because they do not know their Father. Christ has
bought them, and they do not know Christ ; the Father has
loved them from before the foundation of the world, and yet
they know not the face of their Father. When thou sayest
" Our Father," think of the many of thy brothers and sisters
that are in the back streets of London, that are in the dens
and caves of Satan. Think of thy poor brother that is intoxi-
cated with the spirit of the devil ; think of him, led astray to
infamy, and lust, and perhaps to murder, and in thy prayer
pray thou for them who know not the Lord.
" Our Father." That, tlien, includes those of God's children
who differ from us in their doctrine. Ah I there are some that
differ from us as wide as the poles ; but yet they are God's
children. Come, Mr. Bigot, do not kneel down, and say,
5*
106 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
"My Father," but " Our Father." "If you please, I can not
put m Mr. So-and So, for I think ho is a heretic." Put him
in, sir; God has put him in, and you must put him in too, and
say, " Our Father." Is it not remarkable how very much
alike all God's people are upon their knees? Some time ago
at a prayer meeting I called upon two brothers in Christ to
pray one after another, the one a Wesleyan and the other a
strong Calvinist, and the Wesleyan prayed the most Calvin-
istic prayer of the two, I do believe — at least, I could not tell
which was which. I listened to see if I could not discern
some peculiarity even in their i3hraseology ; but there was
none. " Saints in prayer appear as one ;" for when they get
on their knees, they are all compelled to say " Our Father,"
and all their language afterwards is of the same sort.
When thou prayest to God, put iu the poor ; for is he not
the Father of many of the poor, rich in faith, and heirs of the
kingdom, though they be poor in this world. Come, my sister,
if thou bowest thy knee amid the rusthng of silk and satin,
yet remember the cotton and the print. My brother, is there
wealth in thy hand, yet I pray thee, remember thy brethren
of the horny hand and the dusty brow ; remember those who
could not w^ear w^hat thou wearest, nor eat what thou eatest,
but are as Lazarus compared with thee, while thou art as
Dives. Pray for them ; put them all in the same prayer, and
say, " Our Father."
► And pray for those that are divided from us by the sea —
those that are in heathen lands, scattered like precious salt in
the midst of this world's putrefaction. Pray for all that name
the name of Jesus, and let thy prayer be a great and compre-
hensive one. " Our Father, which art in heaven." And after
thou hast prayed that, rise up and act it. Say not " Our Father,"
and then look upon thy brethren with a sneer or a frown. I
beseech thee, live like a brother, and act like a brother. Help
the needy ; cheer the sick ; comfort the faint-hearted ; go
about doing good ; minister unto the suffering people of God,
wherever thou findest them, and let the world take knowledge
of thee, that thou art when on thy feet what thou art upon
thy knees — that thou art a brother unto all the brotherhood
THE FATHEKIIOOD OF GOD. 107
of Christ, a brother born for adversity, like thy Master him-
self.
II. Having thus expounded the double relationship, I have
left myself but little time for a very important part of the
subject, namely, the spirit of adoption.
I am extremely puzzled and bewildered how to exi)lain to
the ungodly what is the spirit with which we must be filled,
before we can pray this prayer. If I had a foundling here,
one who had never seen either father or mother, I think I
should have a very great difficulty hi trying to make him un-
derstand what are the feelings of a child towards its father.
Poor httle thing, he has been under tutors and governors ; he
has learned to respect them for their kindness, or to fear them
for their austerity ; but there never can be in that child's
heart that love towards tutor or governor, however kind he
may be, that there is in the heart of another child towards his
own mother or father. There is a nameless charm there : we
can not describe or understand it : it is a sacred touch of na-
ture, a throb in the breast that God has put there, and that
can not be taken away. The fatherhood is recognized by the
childship of the child. And what is that spirit of a child —
that sweet spirit that makes him recognize and love his father?
I can not tell you unless you are a child yourself, and then you
will know. And what is " the spirit of adoption, whereby we
cry, Abba, Father ?" I can not tell you ; but if you have felt
it you will know it. It is a sweet compound of faith that
knows God to be my Father, love that loves him as my Father,
joy that rejoices in him as my Fathei", fear that trembles to
disobey him because he is my Father, and a confident affection
and trustfulness that relies upon' him, and casts itself wholly
upon him, because it knows by the infallible witness of the
Holy Spirit, that Jehovah, the God of earth and heaven, is the
Father of my iieart. Oh ! have you ever felt the spirit of
adoption ? There is nought like it beneath the sky. Save
heaven itself there is nought more blissful than to enjoy that
spirit of adoption. Oh ! Avhen the wind of trouble is blowing,
and waves of adversity are rising, and the ship is reeling to
the rock, how sweet then to say, " My Father," and to be-
108 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
lieve that his strong hand is on the helm ! — when the bones
are aching, and when the loins are filled w^ith pain, and when
the cup is brimming with wormwood and gall, to say " My
Father," and seeing tliat Father's hand holding the cup to the
lip, to drink it steadily to the very dregs, because we can say,
"My Father, not my will, but thine be done." Well says
Martin Luther, in his Exposition of the Galatians, "There is
more eloquence in that word, 'Abba, Father,' than in all the
orations of Demosthenes or Cicero put together." " My
Father !" Oh ! there is music there ; there is eloquence there ;
there is the very essence of heaven's own bliss in that word,
"My Father," when applied to God, and when said by us
with an unfaltering tongue, through the inspiration of the
Sj)irit of the living God.
My hearers, have you the spirit of adoption ? If not, ye
are miserable men. May God himself bring you to know him !
May he teach you your need of him ! May he lead you to
the cross of Christ, and help you to look to your dying
Brother ! May he bathe you in the blood that flowed from
his open wounds, and then, accepted in the Beloved, may you
rejoice that you have the honor to be one of that sacred
family.
III. And now, in the last place, I said that there was in the
title, A DOUBLE ARGUMENT. " Our Father." That is, " Lord,
hear what I have got to say. Thou art my Father." If I
come before a judge I have no right to expect that he shall
hear me at any particular season in aught that I have to say.
If I came merely to crave for some boon or benefit to myself, if
the law were on my side, then I could demand an audience at
his hands ; but when I come as a law^-breaker, and only come
to crave for mercy, or for favors I deserve not, I have no right
to expect to be heard. But a child, even though he is erring,
always expects his father will hear what he has to say. "Lord,
if I call thee King, thou wilt say, ' Thou art a rebellious sub-
ject ; get thee gone.' If I call thee Judge, thou wilt say, ' Be
still, or out of thine own mouth will I condemn thee.' If I
call thee Creator, thou wilt say unto me, ' It repenteth me
that I have made man upon the earth.' If I cnll thee
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. 109
my Preserverj thou wilt say unto me, 'I have preserved
thee, but thou hast rebelled against me.' But if I call
thee Father, all my sinfulness doth not invalidate my claim.
If thou be my Father, then thou lovest me ; if I be thy child,
then thou wilt regard me, and poor though my language be,
thou wilt not despise it." If a child were called upon to speak
in the presenceof a number of persons, how very much alarmed
he would be lest he should not use right language. I may
sometimes feel when I have to address a mighty auditory, lest
I should not select choice words, full well knowing that if I
were to preach as I never shall, like the mightiest of orators,
I should always have enough of carping critics to rail at me.
But if I had my father here, and if you could all stand in the
relationship of father to me, I should not be very particular
what language I used. When I talk to my Father I am not
afraid he will misunderstand me ; if I put my words a little
out of place he understands my meaning somehow. "When
we are little children we "only prattle ; still our father under-
stands us. Our children talk a great deal more like Dutchmen
than Englishmen when they begin to talk, and strangers come
in and say, "Dear me, what is the child talking about ?" But
we know what it is, and though in what they say there may
not be an intelligible sound that any one could brint, and a
reader make out, we know they have got certain little wants,
and having a way of expressing their desires, and we can un-
derstand them. So when we come to God, our prayers are
little broken things ; we can not put them together ; but our
Father, he will hear us. Oh ! what a beginning is " Our
Father," to a prayer full of faults, and a foolish prayer per-
haps, a prayer in which we are going to ask what we ought
not to ask for ! " Father, forgive the language ! forgive the
matter I" As one dear brotlier said the other day at the
piayer meeting, — he could not get on in prayer, and he fin-
ished up on a sudden by saying, *' Lord, I can not pray to-
night as I should wish ; I can not put the words together ;
Lord, take the meaning, take the meaning," and sat down.
That is just what David said once, "Lo, all my desire is be-
fore thee" — not ray words, but my desire, and God could read
110 THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD.
it. We should say, " Our Father," because that is a reason
why God should hear what we have to say.
But there is another argument. "Our Father." "Lord
give me what I want." If I come to a stranger, I have no
right to expect that he will give it me. He may out of his
charity ; but if I come to a father, I have a claim, a sacred
claim. My Father, I shall have no need to use arguments to
move thy bosom ; I shall not have to speak to thee as the beg-
gar w^ho crieth in the street : for because thou art my Father
thou knowest my wants, and thou art willing to relieve me.
It is thy business to relieve me ; I can come confidently to
thee, knowing thou wilt give me all I want. If we ask our
Father for any thing when we are little children, we are under
an obligation certainly ; but it is an obligation w^e never feel.
If you were hungry and your father fed you, would you feel
an obligation like you would if you went into the house of a
stranger ? You go into a stranger's house trembling, and you
tell him you are hungry. Will he feed you ? He says yes,
he will give you somewhat ; but if you go to your father's
table, almost without asking, you sit down as a matter of
course, and feast to your full, and you rise and go, and feel
you are indebted to him ; but there is not a grievous sense
of obligation. Now, we are all deeply under obligation to God,
but it is a child's obligation — an obligation which impels us to
gratitude, but w^hich does not constrain us to feel that we have
been demeaned by it. Oh ! if he were not my Father, how
could I expect that he w^ould relieve my wants ? But since
he is my Father, he will, he must hear my prayers, and answer
the voice of my crying, and supply all my needs out of the
riches of his fullness in Christ Jesus the Lord.
Has your father treated you badly lately ? I have this word
to you, then ; your father loves you quite as much when he
treats you roughly as when he treats you kindly. There is
often more love in an angry father's heart than there is in
the heart of a father who is too kind. I will suppose a case.
Suppose there were two fathers, and their two sons went away
to some remote part of the earth where idolatry is still prac-
ticed. Suppose these two sons were decoyed and deluded
THE FATHERHOOD OF GOD. Ill
into idolatry. The news comes to England, and the first
father is very nngry. His son, his own son, has forsaken the
religion of Christ and become an idolater. The second f ither
says, " Well, if it will help him in trade I do n't care ; if he
gets on the better by it, all well and good." Now, which loves
most, the angry father, or the father who treats the matter
with complacency ? Why, the angry father is the best. He
loves his son ; therefore he can not give away his son's soul
for gold. Give me a father that is angry with my sins, and
that seeks to bring me back, even though it be by chastise-
ment. Thank God you have got a father that can be angry,
but that loves you as much when he is angry as when he smiles
upon you.
Go away with that upon your mind, and rejoice. But if you
love not God and fear him not, go home, I beseech you, to
confess your sins, and to seek mercy through the blood of
Christ ; and may this sermon be made useful in bringing you
into the family of Christ, though you have strayed from him
long ; and though his love has followed you long in vain, may
it now find you, and bring you to his house rejoicing !
SERMON VII.
EVERYBODY'S SERMON.
" I have multiplied visions, and used similitudes." — ^Hosea, xii. 10.
When the Lord would win his people Israel from their in-
iquities, he did not leave a stone unturned, but gave them
precept upon precept, line upon line, here a little and there a
little. He taught them sometimes with a rod in his hand,
when he smote them with sore famine and pestilence, and in-
vasion ; at other times he sought to win them with bounties,
for he multiplied their corn and their wine and their oil, and
he laid no famine upon them. But all the teachings of his
providence were unavailing, and whilst his hand was stretched
out, still they continued to rebel against the Most High. He
hewed them by the prophets. He sent them first one, and
then another ; the golden-mouthed Isaiah was followed by the
plaintive Jeremy ; while at his heels, in quick succession, there
followed many far-seeing, thunder-speaking seers. But though
prophet followed prophet in quick succession, each of them
uttering the burning words of the Most High, yet they would
have none of his rebukes, but they hardened their hearts, and
went on still in their iniquities. Among the rest of God's
agencies for striking their attention and their conscience, was
the use of similitudes. The prophets were accustomed not
only to preach, but to be themselves as signs and wonders to
the people. For instance, Isaiah named his child, Maher-
shalal-hash-baz, that they might know that the judgment of
the Lord was hastening upon them ; and this child was or-
dained to be a sign, " for before the child shall have knowledge
to cry, my father and my mother, the riches of Damascus and
the spoil of Samaria shall be taken away before the king of
Assyria." On another occasion, the Lord said unto Isaiah,
EVERYBODY'S SERMON. 113
" Go and loose the sackcloth from off thy loins, and put off
thy shoe from thy foot." And lie did so, walking naked and
barefoot. And the Lord said, "Like as my servant Isaiah
hath walked naked and barefoot three years for a sign and
wonder upon Egypt and upon Ethiopia; so shall the king of
Assyria lead away the Egyptians prisoners, and the Ethiopians
captives young and old, naked and barefoot, to the shame of
Egypt." Hosea, the prophet, himself had to teach the people
by a simihtude. You v/ill notice in the first chapter a most
extraordinary similitude. The Lord said to him, " Go, take
unto thee a wife of whoredoms ; for the land hath committed
great whoredom, departing from the Lord ;" and he did so,
and the children begotten by this marriage were made as signs
and wonders to the people. As for his first son, he was to be
called Jezreel, " for yet a little while, and I will avenge the
blood of Jezreel upon the house of Jehu." As for his daugh-
ter, she was to be called Lo-ruhamah, " for I will no more
have mercy upon the house of Israel ; but I will utterly take
them away." Thus by divers significant signs, God made the
people think. He made his prophets do strange things, in
order that the people might talk about what he had done, and
then the meaning which God would have them learn, should
come home more powerfully to their consciences, and be the
better remembered.
God is every day preaching to us by similitudes. When
Christ was on earth he preached in parables, and, though he is
in heaven now, he is preaching in parables to-day. Providence
is God's sermon. The things which we see about us are God's
thoughts and God's words to us ; and if we were but wise there
is not a step that we take, which we should not find to be full
of mighty instruction. O ye sons of men ! God warns you
every day by his own word ; he speaks to you by the lips of
his servants, his ministers ; but, besides this, by similitudes he
addresses you at every time. lie leaves no stone unturned to
bring his wandering children to himself, to make the lost sheep
of the house of Israel return to the fold. In addressing
myself to you this morning, I shall endeavor to show how
every day, and every season of the year, in every place, and
114 EVERYBODY'S SERMON.
in every calling which you are made to exercise, God is speak-
ing to you by similitudes.
I. Every day God speaks to you by similitudes. Let us
begin with the early morning. This morning you awakened
and you found yourselves unclothed, and you began to array
yourselves in your garments. Did not God, if you would but
have heard him, speak to you by a similitude ? Did he not
as much as say to thee, " Sinner, what will it be w^hen thy
vain dreams shall have ended, if thou shouldst wake up in
eternity to find thyself naked ? Wherewithal shalt thou array
thyself? If in this life thou dost cast away the wedding gar-
ment, the spotless righteousness of Jesus Christ, what wilt
thou do when the trump of the archangel shall awaken thee
from thy clay cold couch in the grave, when the heavens shall
be blazing with lightnings, and the solid pillars of the earth
shall quake with the terrors of God's thunder ? How wilt
thou be able to dress thyself then?" Canst thou confront
thy Maker without a covering for thy nakedness? Adam
dared not, and canst thou attempt it ? Will he not affright
thee with his terrors ? Will he not cast thee to the tor-
mentors that thou mayest be burned with unquenchable fire,
because thou didst forget the clothing of thy soul while thou
wast in this place of probation ?
Well, you have put on your dress, and you come down to
your families, and your children gather round your table for
the morning meal. If you liave been wise, God has been
preaching to you hy a similitxide then : he seemed to say to
thee — " Sinner, to w^hom should a child go but to his father ?
And where should be his resort when he is hungry but to his
father's table ?" And as you fed your children, if you had
an ear to hear, the Lord w^as speaking to you and saying,
" How willingly would I feed you ! How would I give you
of the bread of heaven and cause you to eat angels' food !
But thou hast spent thy money for that which is not bread,
and thy labor for that which satisfieth not. Hearken dili-
gently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, let thy soul
delight itself in fatness." Did he not stand there as a Father,
and say, "Come, my child, come to my table. The precious
eyektbody's seemok. 115
blood of- my Son has been shed to be thy drink, and he has given
his body to be thy bread. Why wilt thou wander hungry
and thirsty ? Come to my table, O my child, for I love my chil-
dren to be there and to feast upon the mercies I have provided."
You left your home and you went to your business. I
know not in what calling your time was occupied — of that we
will say more before we shall have gathered up the ends of
your similitudes this morning — but you spend your time in
your work ; and surely, beloved, all the time that your fingers
were occupied, God was speaking to your heart, if the ears of
your soul had not been closed, so that you were heavy and
ready to slumber, and could not hear his voice. And when
the sun was shining in high heaven, and the hour of noon was
reached, mightest thou not have lifted up thine eye and re-
membered tliat if thou hadst committed thy soul to God, thy
path should have been as the shining light which shineth more
and more unto the perfect day ? Did he not speak to thee
and say, " I brought tiie sun from the darkness of the east ;
I have guided him and helped him to ascend the slippery
steeps of heaven, and now he standeth in his zenith, like a
giant that hath inm his race, and hath attained his goal. And
even so will I do with thee. Commit thy ways unto me and I
will make thee full of light, and thy path shall be as bright-
ness, and thy life shall be as the noon-day ; thy sun shall not
go down by day, but the days of thy mourning shall be ended,
for the Lord God shall be thy light and thy salvation."
And the sun began to set, and the shadows of evening
were drawing on, and did not the Lord then remind thee of
thy death ? Suns have their setting, and men have their
graves. When the shadows of the evening were stretched out,
and when the darkness began to gather, did he not say unto
thee, " O, man, take heed of thine eventide, for the light of
the sun shall not endure for ever? There are twelve hours
wherein a man shall work, but when they are past there is no
work nor device in the night of that grave whither we are all
hastening. Work while ye have the light, for the night
cometh wherein no man can work. Therefore, whatsoever
thine hand fiudeth to do, do it with all thy might." Look, I
116 EVERrBODT'S SERMON.
say, to the sun at his setting, and observe the rainbow hues of
glory with which he paints the sky, and mark how he appears
to increase his orb, as he nears the horizon. O man kneel
down and learn this prayer — "Lord, let my dying be like the
setting of the sun ; help me, if clouds and darkness are round
about me, to light them up with splendor ; surround me, O my
God, with a greater brightness at my death than I have
shown in all my former life. If my death-bed shall be the
miserable j)allet, and if I expire in some lone cot, yet never-
theless, grant, O Lord, that my poverty may be gilded with
the light that thou shalt give me, that I may exhibit the
grandeur of a Christian's departure at my dying hour." God
speaketh to thee, O man, by similitude, from the rising to the
setting of the sun.
And now, thou hast lit thy candles and thou sittest down ;
thy children are about thee, and the Lord sends thee a little
preacher to preach thee a sermon, if thou wilt hear. It is a
little gnat, and it flieth round and round about thy candle, and
delighteth itself in the light thereof, till, dazzled and intoxicated,
it begins to singe its wings and burn itself. Thou seekest to
put it away, but it dashes into the flame, and having burned
itself it can scarcely fan itself through the air again. But as
soon as it has recruited its strength again, mad-like it dashes
to its death and destruction. Did not the Lord say to thee,
" Sinner, thou art doing this also ; thou lovest the light of
sin ; oh, that thou wert %vise enough to tremble at the fire of
sin, for he who delights in the sparks thereof must be con-
sumed in the burning?" Did not thy hand seem to be like
the hand of the Almighty, who would put thee away from
thine own destruction, and who rebukes and smites thee by
his providence, as much as to say to thee, *' Poor silly man, be
not thine own destruction ?" And while thou seest perhaps
with a little sorrow the death of the foolish insect, might not
that forewarn thee of thine awful doom, when, after having
been dazzled with the giddy round of this world's joys, thou
shalt at last plunge into the eternal burning and lose thy soul,
so madly, for nothing but the enjoyments of an hour ? Doth
not God preach to thee thus ?
EVEETBODY'S SERMON. 117
And now it is time for thee to retire to thy rest. Thy door
is bolted, and thou hast fast closed it. Did not that remind
thee of that saying, " When once the master of the house is
risen up, and hath shut to the door, and ye begin to stand
M'ithout, and to knock at the door, saying, ' Lord, Lord, open
unto us ;' and he shall answer and say unto you, 'I know not
whence you are ?' " in vain shall be your knocking then, when
the bars of immutable justice shall have fast closed the gates
of mercy on mankind ; when the hand of the Almighty JVIaster
shall have shut his children within the gates of Paradise, and
shall have left the thief and the robber in the cold chilly dark-
ness, the outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and
wailing and gnashing of teeth. Did he not preach to thee by
similitude ? Even then, when thy finger was on the bolt,
might not his finger have been on thy heart ?
And at night time thou wast startled. The watchman in
the street awoke thee with the cry of the hour of the night,
or his tramp along the street. O man, if thou hadst ears to
hear, thou mightest have heard in the steady tramp of the
policeman the cry, " Behold, the bridegroom cometh ; go ye
out to meet him." And every sound at midnight that did
awaken thee from thy slumber and startle thee upon thy bed,
might seem to forewarn thee of that dread trump of the arch-
angel which shall herald the coming of the Son of man, in the
day he shall judge both the quick and the dead, according to
my gospel. O that ye were wise, that ye understood this, for
all the day long from dewy morning till the darkness of the
eventide, and the thick darkness of midnight, God evermore
doth preach to man — he preacheth to him by similitudes.
IL And now we turn the cuiTent of our thoughts, and ob-
serve that ALL THE YEAB rouud God doth preach to man by
similitudes. It was but a little while ago that we were sow-
ing our seeds in our garden, and scattering the corn over the
broad furrows. God had sent the seed time, to remind us
that we too are like the ground, and that he is scattering seed
in our hearts each day. And did he not say to us, "Take
heed, O man, lest thou shouldst be like the highway whereon
the seed was scattered, but the fowls of the air devoured it.
118 EVEETBODY'S SERMON.
Take heed that thou be not like the ground that had its base-
ment on a hard and arid rock, lest this seed should spring up
and by-and-bye should wither away when the sun arose, be-
cause it had not much depth of earth. And be thou careful,
O son of man, that thou art not like the ground .where the
seed did spring uj), but the thorns sprang up and choked it ;
but be thou like the good ground whereon the seed did fall,
and it brought forth fruit, some twenty, some fifty, and some
a hundred fold."
We thought, when we were sowing the seed, that we ex-
pected one day to see it spring up again. Was there not a
lesson for us there ? Are not our actions all of them as seeds ?
Are not our little words like grains of mustard-seed ? Is not
our daily conversation like a handful of the corn that we
scatter over the soil? And ought we not to remember that
our words shall live again, that our acts are as immortal as
ourselves, that after having laid a little while in the dust to
be matured, they shall certainly arise ? The black deeds of
sin shall bear a dismal harvest of damnation ; and the right
deeds which God's grace has permitted us to do, shall, through
his mercy and not through our merit, bring forth a bounteous
harvest in the day when they who sow in tears shall reap in
joy. Doth not seed time preach to thee, O man, and say,
"Take heed that thou sowest good seed in thy field."
And when the seed sprang up, and the season had changed,
did God cease then to preach ? Ah ! no. First the blade,
then the ear, and then the full corn in the ear, had each its
homily. And when at last the harvest came, how loud the
sermon which it preached to us ! It said to us, " O Israel, I
have set a harvest for thee. Whatsoever a man soweth that
shall he also reap. He that soweth to the flesh shall of the
flesh reap corruption, and he that soweth to the Spirit shall
of the Spirit reap life everlasting." If you have to journey in
the country, you will, if your heart is rightly attuned, find a
marvelous mass of wisdom couched in a corn-field. Why, I
could not attempt for a, moment to open the mighty mines of
golden treasure which arc hidden there. Think, beloved, of
the joy of the harvest. How does it tell us of the joy of the
eveetbodt's sermon. 119
redeemed, if we, being saved, shall at last be carried like
shocks of coni fully ripe into the garner. Look at the ear of
corn when it is fully ripe, and see how it dippeth toward the
earth ! It held its head erect before, bat in getting ripe how
humble does it become ! And how does God speak to the
sinner, and tell him, that if he would be fit for the great har-
vest he must drop his head and cry, " Lord have mercy upon
me a sinner." And when w^e see the weeds spring up amongst
wheat, have we not our Master's parable over again of the
tares among the wheat ; and are we not reminded of the great
day of division, when he shall say to the reaper, " Gather first
the tares and bind them in bundles, to burn them ; but gather
the wheat into my barn." O yellow field of corn, thou
preachest well to me, for thou sayest to me, the minister,
" Behold, the fields are ripe already to the harvest. "Work
thou thyself, and pray thou the Lord of the harvest to send
forth more laborers into the harvest." And it preaches well
to thee, thou man of years, it tells thee that the sickle of death
is sharp, and that thou must soon fall, but it cheers and com-
forts thee, for it tells thee that the wheat shall be safely housed,
and it bids thee hope that thou shalt be carried to thy Master's
garner to be his joy and his delight for ever. Hark, then, to
the rustling eloquence of the yellow harvest.
In a very little time, my, beloved, you will see the birds
congregated on tlie housetops in great multitudes, and after
they have whirled round and round and round, as if they
were taking their last sight at Old England, or rehearsing
their supplications before they launched away, you will see
them, with their leader in advance, speed across the purple
sea to live in sunnier climes, while winter's cold hand shall
sti-ip their native woods. And doth not God seem to preach
to you, sinners, when these birds are taking their flight ? Do
you not remember how he himself puts it ? " Yea, the stork
in the heaven knoweth her appointed times ; and the turtle,
and the crane, and the swallow, observe the timeof their com-
ing ; but my people know not the judgment of the Lord."
Doth ho not tell us that there is a time of dark winter coming
upon this world ; a time of trouble, such as there has been
120 everybody's sermon.
none like it, neither shall be any more ; a time, when all the
joys of sin shall be nipped and frost-bitten, and when the
summer of man's estate shall be turned into the dark winter
of his disappointment ? And does he not say to you, " Sinner !
fly away — away — away to the goodly land, where Jesus dwells !
Away from self and sin ! Away from the city of Destruction !
Away from the whirl of pleasures, and from the tossing to and
fro of trouble ! Haste thee, like a bird to its rest ! Fly thou
across the sea of repentance and faith, and build thy nest in the
land of mercy, that when the great day of vengeance shall pass
o'er this world, thou mayest be safe in the clefts of the rock."
I remember well, how once God preached to me by a simili-
tude in the depth of winter. The earth had been black, and
there was scarcely a green thing or a flower to be seen. As
you looked across the field, there was nothing but blackness —
bare hedges and leafless trees, and black, black earth, where-
ever you looked. On a sudden God spake, and unlocked the
treasures of the snow, and white flakes descended until there
was no blackness to be seen, and all was one sheet of dazzling
whiteness. It was at that time that I was seeking the Saviour,
and it was then I found him ; and I remember well that ser-
mon which I saw before me ; " Come now, and let us reason
together ; though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as snow,
though they be red like crimson they shall be whiter than
wool." Sinner ! thy heart is like that black ground ; thy soul
is like that black tree and hedgerow, without leaf or blossom ;
God's grace is like the white snow — it shall fall upon thee till
thy doubting heart shall glitter in whiteness of pardon, and
thy poor black soul shall be covered with the spotless purity of
the Son of God. He seems to say to you, " Sinner, you are
black, but I am ready to forgive you ; I will wrap thy heart in
the ermine of my Son's righteousness, and with my Son's own
garments on, thou shalt be holy as the Holy One."
And the wind of to-day, as it comes howling through the
trees — many of which have been swept down — reminds us of
the Spirit of the Lord, which " bloweth where it listeth," and
when it pleaseth ; and it tells us to seek earnestly after that
divine and mysterious influence which alone can speed U8 on
EVERYBODY'S SERMON. 121
our voyage to heaven ; which shall cast down the trees of oar
pride, and tear up by the roots the goodly cedars of our self-
confidence ; which shall shake our refuges of lies about our
ears, and make us look to him who is the only covert from the
storm, the only shelter when " the blast of the terrible ones is
as a storm against the wall."
Ay, and when the heat is coming down, and we hide our-
selves beneath the shadow of the tree, an angel stand eth there,
and whispereth, " Look upwards, siimer, as thou hidest thyself
from the burning rays of Sol beneath the tree ; so there is One
w^ho is hke the apple tree among the trees of the wood, and
he bids thee come and take shadow beneath his branches, for
he will screen thee from the eternal vengeance of God, and
give thee shelter when the fierce heat of God's anger shall beat
upon the heads of wicked men."
ni. And now again, every place to which you journey,
every animal that you see, every spot you visit, has a sermon
for you. Go into your farm-yard, and your ox and your ass
shall preach to you. " The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass
his master's crib ; but Israel doth no know, my people doth not
consider." The very dog at your heels may rebuke you. He
follows his master ; a stranger will he not follow, for he knows
not the voice of a stranger, but ye forsake your God and turn
aside unto your crooked ways. Look at the chicken by the
side of yonder pond, and let it rebuke your ingratitude. It
drinks, and every sip it takes it lifts its head to heaven and
thanks the Giver of the rain for the drink aflTorded to it ; while
thou eatest and drinkest, and there is no blessing pronounced
it thy meals, and no thanksgiving bestowed upon thy Father
for his bounty. The very horse is checked by the bridle, and
the whip is for the ass ; but thy God hath bridled thee by his
commandments, and he hath chastened by his providence, yet
art thou more obstinate than the ass or the mule ; still thou
wilt not run in his commandments, but thou turnest aside, will-
fully and wickedly following out the perversity of thine own
heart. Is it not so ? Are not these things true of you ? If
you are still without God and without Christ, must not these
things strike your conscience ? Would not any one of them
6
122 EVEEYBODY'S SEEMON.
lead you to tremble before the Most High, and beg of him
that he would give you a new heart and a right spirit, and that
no longer you might be as the beasts of the field, but might
be a man full of the divine Spirit, living in obedience to your
Creator.
And in journeying^ you have noticed how often the road is
rough with stones, and you have murmured because of the way
over which you have to tread ; and have you not thought that
those stones were helping to make the road better, and that
the worst piece of road when mended with hard stones would
in time become smooth and fit to travel on ? And did you
think how often God has mended you ; how many stones of
affliction he has cast upon you; how many wagon loads of
warnings you have had spread out upon you, and you have
been none the better, but have only grown worse ; and when
he comes to look on you to see whether your life has become
smooth, whether the highway of your moral conduct has be-
come more like the king's highway of righteousness, how might
he say, " Alas ! I have repaired this road, but it is none the
better ; let it alone until it becomes a very bog and quagmire,
until he who keeps it thus ill shall have perished in it himself."
And thou hast gone by the sea-side, and has not the sea
talked to thee ? Inconstant as the sea art thou, but thou art
not one half so obedient. God keeps the sea, the mountain-
waved sea, in check with a belt of sand ; he spreads the sand
along the sea-shore, and even the sea observes the landmark.
"Fear ye not me? saith the Lord ; will ye not tremble at my
presence, which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea
by a perpetual decree, that it can not pass it ; and though the
waves thereof toss themselves, yet can they not prevail ; though
they roar, yet can they not pass over it ?" It is so. Let thy
conscience prick thee. Tlie sea obeys him from shore to shore,
and yet thou wilt not have him to be thy God, but thou sayest,
" Who is the Lord that I should fear him r* Who is Jehovah
that I should acknowledoje his sway ?"
Hear the mountains and the hills^ for they have a lesson.
Such is God. He abideth for ever — think not that he shall
chanfire.
everybody's sermox. 123
And now, sinner, I entreat thee to open thine eyes as thou
goest home to-day, and if nothing: that I have said shall smite
thee, perhaps God shall put into thy way something that shall
give thee a text, from which thou mayest preach to thyself a
sermon that never shall be forgotten. Oh ! if I had but time,
and thought, and words, I would bring the things that are in
heaven above, and in the earth beneath, and in the waters un-
der the earth, and I would set them all before thee, and they
should every one give their warning before they had passed
from thine inspection, and I know that their voice would be,
" Consider the Lord thy Creator, and fear and serve him, for
he hath made thee, and thou hast not made thyself;" we obey
him, and we find it is our beauty to be obedient, and our glory
ever to move according to his will ; and thou shalt find it to
be the same. Obey him while thou mayest, lest haply when
this life is over all these things shall rise up against thee, and
the stone in the street shall clamor for thy condemnation, and
the beam out of the wall shall bear witness against thee, and the
beasts of the field shall be thine accusers, and the valley and
hill shall begin to curse thee. O man, the earth is made for thy
warning. God would have thee be saved. He hath set hand
posts eveiywhere in nature and in providence, pointing thee
the way to the city of refuge, and if thou art but wise thou
neede-t not miss thy way ; it is but thy willful ignorance and
thy neglect that shall cause thee to run on in the way of error,
for God hath made the way straight before thee and given
thee every encouragement to run thereih.
IV. And now, lest I should weary you, I will just notice
that eveiy man in his calling has a sermon preached to him.
The farmer has a thousand sermons ; I have brought them
out already; let him open wide his eyes, and he shall see
more. He need not go an inch without hearing the songs of
angels, and the voices of spirits wooing him to righteousness,
for all nature round about him has a tongue given to it, when
man hath an ear to hear.
There are others, however, engaged in a business which al-
lows them to see but vqv^ little of nature, and yet even there
God has provided them with a lesson. There is the baker who
124 EVEEYBODY'S SERMON.
provides us with our bread. He thrusts his fuel into the oven,
and he causeth it to glow with heat, and he puts bread there-
in. Well may he, if he be an ungodly man, tremble as he
stands at the oven's mouth, for there is a text which he may
well comprehend as he stands there : " For the day cometh
that shall burn as an oven, and all the proud and they that do
wickedly shall be as stubble ; they shall be consumed. Men
ingather them in bundles and cast them into the fire, and they
are burned." Out of the oven's mouth comes a hot and burn-
ing warning, and the man's heart might melt like wax within
him if he would but regard it.
Then see the butcher. How doth the beast speak to him ?
He sees the lamb almost lick his knife, and the bullock goes
unconsciously to the slaughter. How might he think every
time that he smites the unconscious animal (who knows noth-
ing of death), of his own doom. Are we not, all of us who
are without Christ, fattening for the slaughter ? Are we not
more foohsh than the bullock, for doth not the wicked man
follow his executioner, and walk after his own destroyer into
the very chambers of hell ? When we see a drunkard pursu-
ing his drunkenness, or an unchaste man running in the way
of licentiousness, is he, not as an ox going to the slaughter,
until a dait smite him through the liver? Hath not God
sharpened his knife and made ready his ax that the fatlings of
this earth may be killed, when he shall say to the fowls of the
air and the beasts of the field, " Behold, I have made a feast
of vengeance for you, and ye shall feast upon the blood of the
slain, and make yourselves drunken with the streams there-
of ?" Ay, butcher, there is a lecture for you in your trade ;
and your business may reproach you.
And ye whose craft is to sit still all day, making shoes for
our feet, the lapstone in your lap may reproach you, for your
heart, perhaps, is as hard as that. Have you not been smitten
as often as your lapstone, and yet your heart has never been
broken or melted ? And what shall the Lord say to you at
last, when your stony heart being still within you, he shall con-
demn you and cast you away because you would have none of
his rebukes and would not turn at the voice of his exhortation.
EVERYBODY'S SERMON. 125
Let the hreicer remember that as he brews he must drink.
Let thQ2^otter tremble lest he be like a vessel marred upon the
wheel. Let the pHnter take heed, that his life be set in heav-
enly type, and not in the black letter of sin. Painter^ be-
ware ! for paint will not suffice, we must have unvarnished
realities.
Others of you are engaged in business where you are con-
tinually using scales and measures. Might you not often put
yourselves into those scales ? Might you not fancy you saw
the great Judge standing by with his gospel in one scale and
you in the other, and solemnly looking down upon you, saying,
'■^Mene, nufie, tekel — thou art weighed in the balances and
found wanting ?" Some of you use the measure, and when
you ha\^ measured out, you cut off* the portion that your cus-
tomer requires. Think of your life too, it is to be of a certain
length, and every year brings the measure a little further, and
at last there come the scissors that shall clip off your life, and
it is done. How knowest thou when thou art come to the last
inch ? What is that disease thou hast about thee, but the first
snip of the scissors ? What that trembling in thy bones, that
failing in thy eyesight, that fleeing of thy memory, that de-
parture of thy youthful vigor, but the first rent ? How soon
shalt thou be rent in twain, the remnant of thy days j)ast
away, and thy years all numbered and gone, misspent and
wasted for ever !
But you say you are engaged as a servant and your occupa-
tions are diverse. Then diverse are the lectures God preaches
to you. " A servant waits for his wages and the hireling ful-
filleth his day." There is a similitude for thee, when thou hast
fulfilled thy day on earth, and shalt take thy wages at last.
Who then is thy master ? Art thou serving Satan and the
lusts of the flesh, and wilt thou take out thy wages at last in
the hot raetal of destruction ? or art thou serving the fair
prince Emmanuel, and shalt thy wages be the golden crowns
of heaven ? Oh I happy art thou if thou servest a good mas-
ter, for according to thy master shall be thy reward ; as is thy
labor such shall the end be.
Or art thou one that guideth the pen, and from hour to hour
126 EVEEYBODT'S SERMON.
wearily thou writest ? Ah ! man, know that thy life is a writ-
ing. When thy hand is not on the pen, thou art a writer
still ; thou art always writing upon the pages of eternity ; thy
sins thou art writing or else thy holy confidence in him that
loved thee. Happy shall it be for thee, O writer, if thy name
is written in the Lamb's book of life, and if that black writing
of thine, in the history of thy pilgrimage below, shall have
been blotted out with the red blood of Christ, and thou shalt
have written upon thee, the fair name of Jehovah, to stand
legible for ever.
Or perhaps thou art a physician or a chemist ; thou pre-
scribest or preparest medicines for man's body. God stands
there by the side of thy pestle and thy mortar ; and by the
table where thou writest thy prescriptions, and he say^to thee,
" Man, thou art sick ; I can prescribe for thee. The blood
and righteousness of Christ, laid hold of by faith, and applied
by the Spirit, can cure thy soul. I can compound a medicine
for thee that shall rid thee of thy ills and bring thee to the
place where the inhabitants shall no more say, ' I am sick.'
Wilt thou take my medicine or wilt thou reject it ? Is it bit-
ter to thee, and dost thou turn away from it ? Come, drink
my child, drink, for thy life lieth here ; and how shalt thou
escape if thou neglect so great salvation ?" Do you cast iron,
or melt lead, or fuse the hard metals of the mines ? then pray
that the Lord may melt thine heart and cast thee in the
mould of the gospel ! Do you make garments for men ? oh,
be careful that you find a garment for yourself for ever.
Are you busy in building all day long, laying the stone upon
its fellow and the mortar in its crevice ? Then remember thou
art building for eternity too. Oh that thou mayest thyself be
built upon a good foundation ! Oh that thou mayest build
thereon, not wood, hay, or stubble, but gold, and silver, and
precious stones, and things that will abide the fire ! Take
care, man, lest thou shouldest be God's scafibld, lest thou
should est be used on earth to be a scaffolding for building his
church, and when his church is built thou shouldest be cast
down and burned up with fire unquenchable. Take heed that
thou art built upon a rock, and not upon the sand, and that
everybody's seemon. 12 Y
the vermilion cement of the Saviour's precious blood unites
thee to the foundation of the building, and to every stone
thereof.
Art thou SLjeiceler, and dost thou cut the gem and polish
the diamond from day to day ? Would to God thou wouldest
take warning from the contrast which thou presentest to the
stone on which thou dost exercise thy craft. Thou cuttest it,
and it glitters the more thou dost cut it ; but though thou hast
been cut and ground, though thou hast had cholei-a and fever,
and hast been at death's door many a day, thou art none the
blighter, but the duller, for alas ! thou art no diamond. Thou
art but the pebble-stone of the brook, and in the day when
God makes up his jewels he shall not enclose thee in the casket
of his treasures ; for thou art not one of the precious sons of
Zion, comparable unto fine gold. But be thy situation what
it may, be thy calling what it may, there is a continual sermon
preached to thy conscience. I would that thou wouldest now
from this time forth open both eye and ear, and see and hear
the things that God would teach thee.
And now, dropping the similitude while the clock shall tick
but a few times more, let us put the matter thus — Sinner, thou
art as yet without God and without Christ ; thou art liable to
death every hour. Thou canst not tell but that thou mayest
be in the flames of hell before the clock shall strike One to-
day. Thou art to-day "condemned already," because thou
believest not in the Son of God. And Jesus Christ saith to
thee this day, "Oh, that thou wouldest consider thy latter
end !" He cries to thee this morning, " How often would I
have gathered thee as a hen gathereth her chickens under her
wings, but ye would not." I entreat you, consider your ways.
If it be worth while to make your bed in hell, do it. If the
pleasures of this world are worth being damned to all eternity
for enjoying them, if heaven be a cheat and hell a delusion, go
on with your sins. But, if there be hell for sinners and heaven
for repenting ones, and if thou must dwell a whole eternity in
one place or the other, without similitude, I put a plain ques-
tion to thee — Art thou wise in living as thou dost, witliout
thought — careless, and godless ? Wouldst thou ask now the
128 EVERYBODY'S SEEMON.
way of salvation ? It is simply this — " Believe on the Lord
Jesus Christ and thou shalt be saved." He died ; he rose
again ; thou art to believe him to be thine ; thou art to believe
that he is able to save unto the uttermost them that come unto
God by him. But, more than that, believing that to be a fact,
thou art to cast thy soul upon that fact and trust to him, sink
or swim. Spirit of God ! help us each to do this ; and by sim-
ilitude, or by providence, or by thy prophets, bring us each to
thyself and save us eternally, and unto thee shall be the glory.
I
SERMON VIII.
A LECTURE FOR LITTLE-FAITH.
" "We are bound to thank God always for you, brethren, as it is meet, be-
cause that your faith groweth exceedingly, and the charity of every one of
you all toward each other aboundeth."— 2 Thessaloniaxs, l 3.
" We are bound to thank God always for you, brethren, as
it is meet." Whether we shall praise God or not, is not left
to our opinion. Although the commandment saith not, "Thou
shalt praise the Lord," yet praise is God's most righteous due ;
and every man, as a partaker of God's bounty, and especially
every Christian, is bound to praise God, as it is meet. It is
true, we have no authoritative rubric for daily praise ; we
have no commandment left on record specially prescribing
certain hours of song and thanksgiving; but still the law
written upon the heart teacheth us with divine authority that
it is right to praise God ; and this unwritten mandate hath as
much power and authority about it as if it had been recorded
on the tables of stone, or handed to us from the top of thun-
dering Sinai. The Christian's duty is to praise God. Think
not, ye who are always mourning, that ye are guiltless in that
respect ; imagine not that ye can discharge your duty to your
God without songs of praise. It is your duty to praise him.
You are bound by the bonds of his love as long as you live to
bless his name. It is meet and comely that you should do so.
It is not only a pleasurable exercise, but it is the absolute duty
of the Christian life to praise God. This is taught us in the text
— "We are bound to thank God always for you, brethren, as
it is meet." Let not your harps then hang upon the willows,
ye mourning children of the Lord. It is your duty to strike
them and bring forth their loudest music. It is sinful in you
to cease from praising God ; you are blessed in order that you
6*
130 A LECTUEE FOR LITTLE-FAITH.
may bless him ; and if you do not praise God you are not
bringing forth the fruit which he, as the divine husbandman,
may well expect at your hands. Go forth, then, ye sons of
God, and chant his praise. With every morning's dawn lift
up your notes of thanksgiving ; and every evening let the
setting sun be followed with your song. Girdle the earth
with your praises ; surround it with an atmosphere of melody,
so shall God himself look down from heaven and accept your
praises as like in kind, though not equal in degree, to the
praises of cherubim and seraphim.
It seems, however, that the apostle Paul in this instance
exercised praise not for himself but for others, for the church
at Thessalonica. If any of you should in ignorance ask the
question why it was that Paul should take so deep an interest
in the salvation of these saints, and in their growth in faith, I
would remind you that this is a secret known only to the
men who have brought forth and nourished children, and
therefore love them. The apostle Paul had founded the
church at Thessalonica; most of these people were his spirit-
ual offspring ; by the words of his mouth, attended by the
power of the Spirit, they had been brought out of darkness
into marvelous light ; and they who have had spiritual chil-
dren, who have brought many sons unto God, can tell you that
there is an interest felt by a spiritual father, that is not to be
equaled even by the tender affection of a mother towards
her babe. " Ay," said the apostle, " I have been tender over
you as a nursing father ;" and in another place he says he had
" travailed in birth" for their souls. This is a secret not
known to the hireling minister. Only he whom God hath
himself ordained and thrust forth into the work, only he who
has had his tongue touched with a live coal from off the altar,
can tell you what it is to agonize for men's souls before they
are converted, and what it is to rejoice with joy unspeakable,
and full of glory, when the travail of their souls is seen in the
salvation of God's elect.
And now, beloved, having thus given you two thoughts
which seemed to me to arise naturally from the text, I shall
repair at once to the object of this moniing's discourse. The
A LECTURE FOR LITTLE-FAITH. 131
apostle thanks God that the faith of the Thessalonians had
grown exceedingly. Leaving out the rest of the text, I shall
direct your attention this morning to the subject of growth in
faith. Faith hath degrees.
• In the first place, I shall endeavor to notice the incon-
venie7ices of little faith y secondly, the means of 'promoting Its
groicth ; and thirdly, a certain high attainment^ unto which
faith will assuredly grow^ if we diligently water and cultivate
it,
I. In the first place, the inconveniences of little faith.
When faith first commences in the soul, it is like a grain of
mustard-seed, of which the Saviour said it was the least of all
seeds ; but as God the Holy Spirit is pleased to bedew it with
the sacred moisture of his grace, it germinates and grows and
begins to spread, until at last it becomes a great tree. To use
another figure : when faith commences in the soul it is simply
looking unto Jesus, and perhaps even then there are so many
clouds of doubts, and so much dimness of the eye, that we
have need for the light of the Spirit to shine upon the cross
before we are able even so much as to see it. When faith
grows a little, it rises from looking to Chiist to conning to
Christ. He who stood afar ofi* and looked to the cross, by-and-
bye plucks up courage, and getting heart to liimself, he run-
neth up to the cross ; or perhaps he doth not run, but hath to
be drawn before he can so much as creep thither, and even
then it is with a limping gait that he draweth nigh to Christ
the Saviour. But that done, faith goeth a httle further: it
layeth hold on Christ ; it begins to see him in his excellency,
and appropriates him in some degree, conceives him to be a
real Christ and a real Saviour, and is convinced of his suita-
bility. And when it hath done as much as that, it goeth fur-
ther ; it leaneth on Christ ; it leaneth on its Beloved ; casteth
all the burden of its cares, sorrows, and griefs upon that
blessed shoulder, and permitteth all its sins to be swallowed
up in the great red sea of the Saviour's blood. And faith can
then go further still ; for having seen and ran towards him,
and laid hold upon him, and having leaned upon him, faith in
the next place puts in a humble, but a sure and certain claim
132 A LECTUKE FOE LITTLE-FAITH.
to all that Christ is and all that he has wrought ; and then,
trusting alone in this, appropriating all this to itself, faith
mounteth to full assurance ; and out of heaven there is no
state more rapturous and blessed. But, as I have observed at
the beginning, faith is but very small, and there are some"
Christians who never get out of little faith all the while they
are here. You notice in John Bunyan's " Pilgrim's Prog-
ress," how many Little -faith's he mentions. There is our
old friend Keady-to-halt, who went all the way to the celestial
city on crutches, but left them when he went into the river
Jordan. Then there is little Feeble-mind, who carried his
feeble mind with him all the way to the banks of the river
and then left it, and ordered it to be buried in a dunghill that
none might inherit it. Then there is Mr. Fearing, too, who
used to stumble over a straw, and was always fiightened if he
saw a drop of rain, because he thought the floods of heaven
were let loose uj^on him. And you remember Mr. Despond-
ency and Miss Much-afraid, who were so long locked up in
the dungeon of Giant Despair that they were almost starved
to death, and there was little left of them but skin and bone ;
and poor Mr. Feeble-mind, who had been taken into the cave
of Giant Slay-good who was about to eat him, when Great-
heart came to his deliverance. John Bunyan was a very
wise man. He has put a great many of those characters in
his book, because there are a great many of them. He has
not left us with one Mr. Ready-to-halt, but he has given us
seven or eight graphic characters, because he himself in his
own time had been one of them, and he had known many
others who had walked in the same path. I doubt not I have
a very large congregation this morning of this very class of
persons. Now let me notice the inconveniences of little faith.
The first inconvenience of little faith is that while it is
always sure of heaven it very seldom thinks so. Little -faith
is quite as sure of heaven as Great-faith. When Jesus Christ
counts up his jewels at the last day he will take to himself
the little pearls as well as the great ones. If a diamond be
never so small yet it is precious because it is a diamond. So
"Vfill faith, be it never so little, if it be true faith — Christ will
A LECTURE FOR LITTLE-FAITH. 133
never lose even tlie smallest jewel of his crowTi. Little-flnth
is always sure of heaven, because the name of Little-faith is
in the booiv of eternal life. Little-faith was chosen of God
before the foundation of the world. Little-faith was bought
with the blood of Christ ; ay, and he cost as much as Great-
faith. " For every man a shekel" was the price of redemp-
tion. Every man, whether great or small, prince or peasant,
had to redeem himself with a shekel. Christ has bought all,
both little and great, with the same most precious blood.
Little-faith is always sure of heaven, for God has begun the
good work in him and he will carry it on. God loves him,
and he will love him unto the end. God has provided a crown
for him, and he will not allow the crown to hang there with-
out a head ; he has erected for him a mansion in heavfen, and
he will not allow the mansion to stand untenanted for ever.
Little-faith is always safe, but he very seldom knows it. If
you meet him he is sometimes afiaid of hell ; very often afraid
that the wrath of God abideth on him. lie will tell you that
the country on the other side the flood can never belong to a
worm so base as lie. Sometimes it is because he feels himself
so unworthy, another time it is because the things of God are
too good to be true, he says, or he can not think they can be
true to such a one as he is. Sometimes he is afraid he is not
elect ; another time he fears that he has not been called aright,
that he has not come to Christ aright. Another time his fears
are that he will not hold on to the end, that he shall not be able
to persevere; and if you kill a thousand of his fears he is sure
to have another host by to-morrow ; for unbelief is one of
those things that you can not destroy. " It hath," saith Bun-
yan, " as many Hves as a cat ;" you may kill it over and over
again, but still it lives. It is one of those ill weeds that sleeps
in the soil even after it has been buined, and it only needs a
little encouragement to grow again. Now Great-faith is sure
of heaven, and he knows it. He chmbs Pisgah's top, and
views the landscape o'er; he drinks in the mysteries of Para-
dise even before he enters within the pearly Vates. lie sees
the streets that are paved with gold ; he beholds the walls of
the city, the foundations whereof are of precious stones ; he
1
134 A LECTURE POE LITTLE-EAITH.
hears the mystic music of the glorified, and begins to smell
on earth the perfumes of heaven. But j^oor Little-faith can
scarcely look at the sun ; he very seldom sees the light ; he
gropes in the valley, and while all is safe he always thinks
himself unsafe. That is one of the disadvantages of Little-
faith.
Another disadvantage is, that Little -faith^ while always
having grace enough (for that is Little-faith's promise — " My
grace shall be sufficient for thee") yet never thinks he has grace
enough. He will have quite enough grace to carry him to
heaven ; and ^reat-heart won't have any more. The greatest
saint, when he entered heaven, found that he went in with an
empty wallet ; he had eaten his last crust of bread when he
got there. The manna ceased when the children of Israel en-
tered into Canaan ; they had none to carry with them there;
they began to eat the corn of the land when the manna of the
wilderness had ceased. But Little-faith is always afraid that
he has not grace enough. You see him in trouble. " Oh !"
says he, "I shall never be able to hold my head above water."
Blessed be God he never can sink. If you see him in pros-
perity, he is afraid he shall be intoxicated with pride ; that he
shall turn aside like Balaam. If you meet him attacked by an
enemy, he is scarcely able to say three words for himself, and
he lets the enemy exact upon him. If you find him fighting
the battle of the Lord Jesus Christ, he holds his sword tight
enough, good man, but he has not much strength in his arm to
bring his sword down with might. He can do but little, for
he is afraid that God's grace will not be sufficient for him.
Great-faith, on the other hand, can shake the world. What
cares he about trouble, trial, or duty ?
" He that helped him bears him through,
And makes him more than conqueror too."
He would face an army single handed, if God commanded
him ; and " with the jaw-bone of an ass he would slay heaps
upon heaps, and thousands of men." There is no fear of his
lacking strength. He can do all things or can bear all sufiTer-
ings, for his Lord is there. Come what may, his arm is always
A LECTURE FOE LnTLE-FAITH. 136
sufficient for him ; he treads down his enemy, and his cry
every day is like the shout of Deborah, " O ! my soul, thou
hast trodden down strength." Little-faith treads down strength
too, but he does not know it. He kills his enemies, but he has
not eye-sight enough to see the slain. He often hits so hard
that his foemen retreat, but he thinks they are there still. He
conjures up a thousand phantoms, and when he has routed his
real enemies he makes others, and trembles at the phantoms
which he has himself made. Little-faith will assuredly find
that his garments will not wax old, that his shoes shall be iron
and brass, and that as his day is so shall his strength be ; but
all the way he will be murmuring, because he thinks his gar-
ments will grow old, that his feet will be blistered and sore ;
and he is terrified lest the day should be too heavy for him,
and that the evil of the day shall more than counterbalance
his grace. Ay, it is an inconvenient thing to have little faith,
for little faith perverts every thing into sorrow and grief.
Again, there is a sad inconvenience about Little-faith,
namely, that if Little-faith, he sorely tempted to sin, he is apt
to fall. Strong-faith can well contest with the enemy. Satan
comes along, and says, " All these things will I give thee if
thou wilt fall down and worship me." " Nay," we say, " thou
canst not give us all these things, for they are ours already."
"Nay," says he, "but ye are poor, naked and miserable."
"Ay," say we to him, "but still these things are ours, and it
is good for us to be poor, good for us to be without earthly
goods, or else our Father would give them to us." " Oh,"
says Satan, "you deceive yourselves; you have no portion in
these things, but if you will serve me, then I Avill make you
rich and happy here." Strong-faith says, " Serve thee, thou
fiend! Avaunt! Dost thou offer me silver? — behold God
giveth me gold. Dost thou say to me, ' I will give thee this if
thou disobey ?' — ^fool that thou art I I have a thousand times
as great wages for my obedience as thou canst offer for my
disobedience." But when Satan meets Little-faith, he says to
him, " If thou be the Son of God cast thyself down ;" and
poor Little-faith is so afraid that he is not a son of God that he
IB very apt to cast himself down noon the supposition. " There,"
136 A LECTURE FOR LITTLE-FAITH.
says Satan, " I will give thee all tins if thou wilt disobey."
Little-faith says, " I am not quite sure that I am a child of
God, that I have a portion among them that are sanctified ;"
and he is very apt to fall into sin by reason of the littleness
of his faith. Yet at the same time I must observe that I have
seen some Little-faiths who are far less apt to fall into sin than
others. They have been so cautious that they dared not put
one foot before the other, because they were afaid they should
put it awry : they scarcely even dared to open their lips, but
they prayed, " O Lord, open thou my lips ;" afraid that they
should let a wrong word out if they were to speak ; always
alarmed lest they should be falling into sin unconsciously,
having a very tender conscience. Well I like people of this
sort. I have sometimes thought that Little-faith holds tighter
by Christ than any other. For a man who is very near
drowning is sure to clutch the plank all the tighter with the
grasp of a drowning man, which tightens and becomes more
clenched the more his hope is decreased. Well, beloved,
Little-faith may be kept from falling, but this is the fruit of
tender conscience and not of little faith. Careful walking is
not the result of little faith ; it may go with it, and so may
keep Little-faith from perishing, but little faith is in itself a
dangerous thing, laying us open to innumerable temptations,
and taking away very much of our strength to resist them.
" The joy of the Lord is your strength ;" and if that joy
ceases you become weak and very apt to turn aside. Beloved,
you who are Little-faiths, I tell you it is inconvenient for you
always to remain so ; for you have many nights and few days.
Your years are like Norwegian years — very long winters and
very short summers. You have many bowlings, but very
little of shouting ; you are often playing upon the pipe of
mourning, but very seldom sounding the trump of exultation.
I would to God you could change your notes a little. " Why
should the children of a King go mourning all their days ?"
It is not the Lord's will that you should be always sorrowful.
"Rejoice in the Lord always, and again I say rejoice." Oh,
ye that have been fasting, anoint your heads and wash your
faces, that ye appear not unto men to fast. Oh, ye that are
A LECTURE FOR LITTLE FAITH. 137
sad in heart, "Light is sown for the righteous, and gladness
for the upright in heart." Therefore rejoice, for ye shall
praise him. Say unto yourselves, " Why art thou cast down,
O my soul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope
thou in God, for I shall yet praise him, who is the light of my
countenance and my God."
II. Having thus noticed the inconveniences and disadvan-
tages of little faith, let me give you a few rules with re-
gard TO THE WAY OF STRENGTHENING IT. If yOU WOUld haVB
your little faith grow into great faith, you must feed it well.
Faith is a feeding grace. It does not ask you to give it the
things that are seen, but it does ask you to give it the promise
of the things that are not seen, which are eternal. Thou
tellest me thou hast little faith. I ask thee whether thou art
given to the meditation of God's Word, whether thou hast
studied the promises, whether thou art wont to carry one of
those sacred things about with thee every day ? Dost thou
reply, " No ?" Then, I tell thee, I do not wonder at thine
unbelief. He who deals largely with the promises, will, under
grace, very soon find that there is great room for believing
them. Get a promise, beloved, every day and take it with
you wherever you go ; mark it, learn it, and inwardly digest it.
Don't do as some men do — who think it a Christian duty to
read a chapter every morning, and they read one as long as your
arm without understanding it at all ; but take out some choice
text, and pray the Lord during the day to break it up to your
mind. Do as Luther says : " When I get hold of a promise,"
says he, " I look upon it as I would a finiit tree. I think —
there hang the fruits above my head, and if I would get
them I must shake the tree to and fro." So I take a promise
and meditate upon it ; I shake it to and fro, and sometimes
the mellow fruit falls into my hand, at other times the fruit is
less ready to fall, but I never leave off till I get it. I shake,
shake all the day long ; I turn the text over and over again,
and at last the pomegranate droppeth down, and my soul is
comforted with apples, for it was sick of love. Do that,
Christian. Deal much with the promises ; have much com-
merce with these powders of the merchant ; there is a rich
138 A LECTURE FOR LITTLE FAITH.
perfume in every promise of God ; take it, it is an alabaster
box, break it by meditation, and the sweet scent of faith shall
be shed abroad in your house.
Again, prove the promise^ and in that way you will get your
faith strengthened. When you are at any time placed in dis-
tress, take a promise and see whether it is true. Suppose you
are very near lacking bread, take this promise, " Thy bread
shall be given thee, thy water shall be sure." Rise up in the
morning when nothing is in the cupboard, and say, " I will
see whether God will keep this promise ;" and if he does, do
not forget it ; set it down in your book ; make a mark in your
Bible against it. Do as the old woman did, who put T and P
against the promise, and told her minister that it meant "tried
and proved ;" so that when she was again in distress, she
could not help believing. Have you been exercised by Satan ?
There is a promise that says, " Resist the devil and he will
flee from you." Take that and prove it, and when you have
proved it, make a mark against it, and say, "This I know is
true, for I have proved it to be so." There is nothing in the
world that can confirn; faith like proof. " What I want," said
one, " is facts." And so it is with the Christian. What he
wants is a fact to make him believe. The older you grow the
stronger your faith ought to become, for you have so many
more facts with which to buttress your faith, and compel you
to believe in God. Only think of a man who has come to be
seventy years of age, what a pile of evidence could he accu-
mulate if he kept a note of all God's providential goodness and
all his loving kindness. You do not wonder when you hear a
man, the hairs of whose head are white with the sunlight of
heaven, get up and say, " These fifty years have I served God,
and he has never forsaken me ; I can bear willing testimony
to his faithfulness ; not one good thing hath Failed of all that
the Lord had promised ; all hath come to pass." Now we,
who are young beginners, must not expect that our faith will
be so strong as it will be in years to come. Every instance of
God's love should make us believe him more; and as each
promise passes by, and we can sec the fulfillment of it at the
heels thereof, we must be compelled and constrained to say,
A LECTUKE FOR LrTTLE-FAITH. 139
that God has kept so many of these promises and will keep
them unto the end. But the worst of it is that we forget
them all, and so we begin to have gray hairs sprinkled on our
beads, and we have no more farth than when we began, be-
cause we have forgotten God's repeated answers, and though
he has fulfilled the promise we have suffered it to lie buried in
forgetfulness.
Another plan I would recommend for the strengthening ol
your faith, though not so excellent as the last, is to associate
yourselves icith godly and much-tried men. I tis astonishing
how young believers will get their faith refreshed by talking
with old and advanced Christians. Perhaps you are in great
doubt and distress ; you run off to an old brother, and you
say, *' Oh my dear friend, I am afraid I am not a child of God
at all, I am in such deep distress ; I have had blasphemous
thoughts cast into my heart ; if I were a child of God I should
never feel like that." The old man smiles, and says, " Ah !
you have not gone very far on the road to heaven, or else you
would know better. Why I am the subject of these thoughts
very often. Old as I am, and though I hope I have enjoyed
the full assurance for a long time, yet there are seasons when
if I could have heaven for a grain of faith, I could not think
heaven was mine, for I could not find so much as a grain in me,
though it is there." And he will tell you what dangers he has
passed, and of the sovereign love that kept him, of the temp-
tations that threatened to ensnare him, and of the wisdom
that guided his feet; and he will tell you of his own weakness
and God's omnipotence ; of his own emptiness, and God's full-
ness ; of his own changeableness, and God's immutability ;
and if after talking with such a man you do n't believe, surely
you are sinful indeed ; for " out of the mouth of two witnesses
the whole shall be established," but when there are many such
who can bear testimony to God, it would bo foul sin indeed it
we were to doubt him.
Another way whereby you may obtain increase of faith is to
labor to get as m^xch as possible free from self I have striven
with all my might to attain the position of perfect indifference
of all men. I have found at times, if I have been much praised
140 A LECTUEE FOE LITTLE-FAITH.
in company, and if my heart has given way a little, and I have
taken notice of it, and felt pleased, that the very next time I
was censured and abused I felt the censure and abuse very
keenly, for the very fact that I took the praise rendered me
liable to lay hold upon the censure. So that I have always
tried, especially of late, to take no more notice of man's praise
than of his censure, but to fix my heart simply upon this — I
know that I have a right motive in what I attempt to do : 1
am conscious that I endeavor to serve God with a single eye
to his glory, and therefore it is not for me to take praise from
man, nor censure, but to stand independently upon the one
rock of right doing. Now the same thing will apply to you.
Perhaps you find yourself full of virtue and grace one day,
and the devil flatters you : " Ah ! you are a bright Christian ;
you might join the church now, you would be quite an honor
to it ; see how well you are prospering." And unconsciously
to yourself you believe the sound of that syren music, and
you half believe that really you are growing rich in grace.
Well, the next day you find yourself very low indeed in godly
matters. Perhaps you fall into some sin, and now the devil
says, " Ah ! now you are no child of God ; look at your sins."
Beloved, the only way in which you can maintain your faith
is to live above the praise of self and the censure of self; to
live simply upon the blood and merits of our Lord Jesus
Christ. He who can say in the midst of all his virtues,
" These are but dross and dung ; my hope is fixed on nothing
less than Jesus Christ's finished sacrifice" — such a man, when
sins prevail, will find his faith remain constant, for he will say,
" I once was full of virtue and then I did not trust in myself^
and now I have none still do I trust in my Saviour, for change
as I may, he changeth not. If I had to depend on myself in
the least degree then it would be up and down, up and down ;
but since I rely on what Christ has done, since he is the un-
buttressed pillar of my hope, then come what may my soul
doth rest secure, confident iu faith. Faith will never be weak
if self be weak, but when self is strong, faith can not be strong ;
for self is very much like what the gardener calls the sucker
at the bottom of the tree, which never bears fruit but only
A LECTUEE FOR LITTLE-FAITH. 141
Bocks away the nourishment from the tree itself. Now, self
is tliat sucker which sucks away the nourishment from faith,
and you must cut it up or else your fiith will always be little
faith, and you will have difficulty in maintaining any comfort
in your soul.
But, perhaps, the only way in which most men get their
faith increased is by great trouble. We do n't grow strong
in faith on sunshiny days. It is only in strong weather that
a man gets faith. Faith is not an attainment that droppeth
like the gentle dew from heaven ; it generally comes in the
whirlwind and the storm. Look at the old oaks : how is it
that they have become so deeply rooted in the earth ? Ask
the March winds and they will tell you. It was not the April
shower that did it, or the sweet May smishine, but it was
March's rough wind, the blustering month of old Boreas
shaking the tree to and fro and causing its roots to bind
themselves around the rocks. So must it be with us. We
do n't make great soldiers in the barracks at home ; they must
be made amidst flying shot and thundering cannon. We can
not expect to make good sailors on the Serpentine ; they
must be made far away on the deep sea, where the wild 'vWnds
howl, and the thunders roll like drums in the march of the
God of armies. Storms and tempests are the things that
make men tough and hardy mariners. They see the woiks of
the Lord and his wonders in the deep. So with Christians.
Great-fjuth must have great trials. Mr. Great-heart would
never have been Mr. Great-heart if he had not once been Mr.
Great-trouble. VaUant-for-ti'uth would never have put to
flight those foes, and have been so valiant, if the foes had not
first attacked him. So with us : we must exj^ect great troubles
before we shall attain to much faith.
Then he who would have great faith, must exercise wliat he
has. I should not like to morrow to go and shoe horses, or
to make horse-shoes on an anvil. I am sure my arm would
ache in the first hour with lifting the heavy hammer and bang-
ing it down so many times. Whatever the time might be,
I should not be able to keep time. The reason why the
blacksmith's arm does not tire is, because he is used to it. He
142 A LECTTJEE FOE LITTLE-FAITH.
has kept at it all day long these many years, till there's an arm
for you ! He turns up his sleeve and shows you the strong
sinew that never tires, so strong has it become by use. Do
you want to get your faith strong ? Use it. You lazy lie-a-
bed Christians, that go up to your churches and chapels, and
take your seats, and hear our sermons, and talk about getting
good, but never think about doing good ; ye that are letting
hell fill beneath you, and yet are too idle to stretch out your
hands to pluck brands from the eternal burning ; ye that see
sin running down your streets, yet can never put so much as
your foot to turn or stem the current, I wonder not that you
have to complain of the littleness of your faith. It ought to
be little ; you do but httle, and why should God give you
more strength than you mean to use. Strong fniih must
always be an exercised faith ; and he that dares not exercise
the faith he has shall not have more. " Take away from hira
the one talent and give it to him that hath, because he did not
put it out to usury." In Mr. Whitfield's life, you do not often
find any complaining of want of faith ; or if he did, it was
when he only preached nine times a week ; he never com-
plained when he preached sixteen times. Read Grimshaw's
life: you do not often find him troubled with despondency
when he preached twenty-four times in seven days; it was
only when he was growing a little idle and only preached
twelve times. Keep always at it, and all at it, and there is not
much fear of your faith becoming weak. It is with our faith
as with boys in the winter time. There they go round the
fire, rubbing and chafing their hands to keep the blood in cir-
culation, and almost fighting each other to see which shall sit
on the fire and get warm. At last the father comes, and says,
" Boys, this won't do ; you will never get warm by these arti-
ficial means ; run out and do some work." Then they all go
out, and they come in again with a ruddy hue in their cheeks,
their hands no longer tingle, and they say, " Well, father, we
did n't think it half so warm as it is." So must it be with you :
you must set to work if you would have your faith grow
strong and warm. Tine, your works won't save you ; but
faith without works is dead, fiozen to death ; but faith with
A LECrrUEE FOB LITTLE-FAITH. 143
works groweth to a red heat of fei*vency and to the strength
of stability. Go and teach in the Sunday School, or go and catch
seven or eight poor ragged children ; go and visit the poor old
woman in her hovel ; go and see some poor dying creature in
the back streets of our great city^^and you will say, " Dear
me ! how wonderfully my faith is refreshed just by doing
something." You have been watering yourself whilst you
were watering others.
Now my last advice shall be this — the best way to get your
faith strengthened is to have communion with Christ. If you
commune with Christ, you can not be unbelieving. When his
left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace
me, I can not doubt. When my Beloved sits at his table, and
he brings me into his banqueting house, and his banner over
me is his love, then indeed I do believe. When I feast with
him, my unbelief is abashed and hides its head. Speak, ye
that have been led in the green pastures, and have been made
to lie down by the still waters ; ye who have seen his rod and
his staff, and hope to see them even when you walk through
the valley of the shadow of death ; speak, ye that have sat at
his feet with Mary, or laid your head upon his bosom with the
well-beloved John ; have you not found, when you have been
near to Christ, your faith has grown strong, jmd when you
have been far away, then your faith has become weak ? It is
impossible to look Christ in the face and then doubt him.
When you can not see him, then you doubt him ; but if you
live in fellowship \^th him, you are like to the ewe lambs of
Nathan's parable, for you lie in his bosom, and eat from his
tabic, and drink from his cup. You must believe when your
Beloved speaks unto you, and says, " Rise up my love, my
fair one, and come away." There is no hesitation then ; you
must arise from the lowlands of your doubt up to the hills of
assurance.
• in. And now, in conclusion, there is a certain high at-
tainment TO WHICH FAITH MAY, IF DILIGENTLY CULTIVATED,
CERTAINLY ATTAIN. Can a mau's faith grow so strong that he
will never afteiwards doubt at all. I reply, no. He who has
the strongest faith will have sorrowful intervals of despond
144 A. LECTUKE FOE LITTLE-PAITH.
ency. I suppose there has scarcely ever been a Christian who
has not, at some time or other, had the most painful doubts
concerning his acceptance in the Beloved. All God's children
will have paroxysms of doubt even thongh they be usually
strong in faith. Again, may a man so cultivate his faith that
he may be infallibly sure that he is a child of God — so sure that
he has made no mistake — so sure that all the doubts and fears
which may be thrust upon him may not be able at that time
to get an advantage over him ? I answer, yes, decidedly he
may. A man may, in this life, be as sure of his acceptance m
the Beloved as he is of his own existence. Nay, he not only
may, but there are some of us who have enjoyed this precious
state and privilege for years; we do not mean for years
together — our peace has been interrupted, we have now and
then been subjected to doubts; but I have known some — I
knevr one especially, who said that for thirty years he had en-
joyed almost invariably a full sense of his acceptance in Christ.
" I have had," he said, " very often a sense of sin, but I have
had with that a sense of the power of the blood of Christ ; I
have now and then for a little time had great despondency,
but still I may say, taking it as a general rule, that for thirty
years I have enjoyed the fullest assurance of my acceptance in
the Beloved." I trust a large portion of God's people can say
that for months and years they have not had to sing,
" 'Tis a point I long to know ;"
but they can say, " I know in whom I have believed, and am
persuaded that he is able to keep that which I have committed
to him." I will try to depict the state of the Christian ; he
may be as poor as poverty can make him, but he is rich ; he
has no thought with regard to the morrow, for the morrow
shall take thought for the things of itself. He casts himself
upon the providence of God ; he believes that he who clothes
the lilies, and feeds the ravens, will not allow his children to
go starving or barefooted. He has but little concern as to his
temporal estate ; he folds his arms and floats down the stream
of providence singing all the way ; whether he float by mud
bank, dark, dreary, and noxious, or by palace fair and valley
A LECTURE FOR LITTLE-FAITH. 145
pleasant, he alters not bis position ; he neither moves nor
struggles ; he has no will nor wish which way to swim, his
only desire being to " lie passive in God's hand, and know no
wiU but his." When the storm fl^ies over his head he finds
Christ to be a shelter from the tempest ; when Jhe heat is
great he finds Christ to be the shadow of a great rock in a
weary land. He just casts his anchor down deep into the sea,
and when the wind blows, he sleeps ; hurricanes may come
about his ears, the masts creak, and every timber seem to be
strained and every nail to start from its place, but there he
sleeps ; Christ is at the helm ; he says, " My anchor is within
the vail, I know it will keep its hold." The earth shakes be-
neath his feet ; but he says, " Though the earth be removed
and mountains be cast into the sea, yet will not we fear, for
God is our refuge and strength, and a very present help in
time of trouble." Ask him about his eternal interests, and he
tells you that his only confidence is in Christ, and that die
when he may, he knows he shall stand boldly at the last great
day clothed in his Saviour's righteousness. He speaks very
confidently though never boastingly ; though he has no time to
dance the giddy dance of presumption, he stands firmly on the
rock of confidence. Perhaps you think he is proud — ah ! he
is a humble man ; he lies low before the cross, but not before
you ; he can look you boldly in the face, and tell you that
Christ is able to keep that which he has committed to him.
He knows that
•* His honor is engaged to save
The meanest of bis sheep,
All that his heavenly Father gave,
His hands securely keep."
And die when he may he can lay his head upon the pillow of
the promise, and breathe his life out on the Saviour's breast
without a struggle or a murmur, crying — " Victoiy," in the
arms of death ; challenging Death to produce his sting, and
demanding of the grave its victory. Such is the effect of
strong faith ; I repeat, the weakest in the world, by diligent
cultivation, may attain to it. Only seek the refreshing influ-
7
146 A LECTURE FOR LITTI.E-FAITH.
ence of the divine Spirit, and walk in Christ's commandments,
and live near to him ; and ye that are dwarfs, Hke Zaccheus,
shall become as giants ; the hyssop on the wall shall start up
into the dignity of the cedar of Lebanon, and ye that fly be-
fore your enemies shnll yet be able to chase a thousand, and
two of you shall put ten thousand to flight. May the Lord
enable his poor little ones so to grow !
As for those of you who have no faith in Christ, let me re-
mind you of one sad thing — namely, that " without faith it is
impossible to please God." If thou hast not put thy trust in
Christ, then God is angry with thee every day. ^' If thou
turn not he will whet his sword, for he hath bent his bow and
made it ready." I beseech thee, cast thyself on Christ; he is
worthy of thy trust ; there is none other to trust to ; he is
willing to receive thee ; he invites thee ; he shed his blood for
thee ; he intercedes for thee. Believe on him, for thus his
promise runs, *'He that believeth and is baptized shall be
saved." Do both of these things. Believe on him, and then
profess thy faith in baptism ; and the Lord bless thee, and
hold thee to the end, and make thee to increase exceedingly
in faith, to the glory of God. May the Lord add his blessing !
SERMON IX.
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
"And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes
unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to mo a
sinner." — Luke, xviii. 13.
The heroes of our Saviour's stories are most of them
selected to illustrate traits of characj:er entirely dissimilar to
their general reputation. What would you think of a moral
writer of our own day, should he endeavor, in a work of fic-
tion, to set before us the gentle virtue of benevolence by the
example of a Sepoy ? And yet, Jesus Christ has given us one
of the finest examples of charity in the case of a Samaritan.
To the Jews, a Samaritan was as proverbial for his bitter ani-
mosity against their nation, as the Sepoy is among us for his
treacherous cruelty, and as much an object of contempt and
hatred ; but Jesus Christ, nevertheless, chose his hero from
the Samaritans, that there should be nothing adventitious to
adorn him, but that all the adorning might be given to the
grace of charity. Thus, too, in the present instance, oui
Saviour, being desirous of setting before us the necessity of
humiliation in prayer, has not selected some distinguished
saint who was famed for his humility, but he has chosen a tax-
gatherer, probably one of the most extortionate of his class,
for the Pharisee seems to hint as much ; and I doubt not he
cast lus eye askance at this publican, when he observed, with
self-gratulation, "God, I thank thee that I am not as other
men are, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this pub-
lican." Still, our Lord, in order that we might see that there
was nothing to predispose in the person, but that the accept-
ance of the prayer might stand out, set even in a brighter
light by the black foil of the publican's character, has selected
148 CONFESSION AND AKSOLUTION.
this man to be the pattern and narodel of one who should offer
an acceptable prayer unto God. Note that, and you will not
be surprised to find the same characteristic exhibited very fre-
quently in the parables of our Lord Jesus Christ. As for this
publican, we know but little of his previous career, but we
may, without periling any serious error, conjecture somewhat
near the truth. He may have been, and doubtless he was a
Jew, piously brought up and religiously trained, but, perhaps
like Levi, he ran aw^ay from his parents, and finding no other
trade exactly suited to his vicious taste, he became one of that
corrupt class Avho collected the Roman taxes, and, ashamed
to be known as Levi any longer, he changed his name to
Matthew, lest any one should recognize in the degraded caste
of the publican, the man whose parents feared God and bowed
their knees before Jehovah. It may be that this publican
had in his youth forsaken the ways of his fathers, and given
himself uj? to lasciviousness, and then found this unworthy
occupation to be most accordant with his vicious spirit. We
can not tell how often he had ground the faces of the poor, or
how many curses had been spilled upon his head when he had
broken into the heritage of the widow, and had robbed the
friendless, unj)rotected orphan. The Roman government gave
a publican far greater power than he ought to possess, and he
was never slow to use the advantage for his own enrichment.
Probably half of all he had was a robbery, if not more, for
Zaccheus seems, to hint as much in his own instance, when he
says — " Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor,
and if I have gotten any thing of any man by false accusation,
X restore it unto him four-fold." It w^as not often that this
publican troubled the temple; the priests very seldom saw
him coming with a sacrifice ; it would have been an abomina-
tion, and he did not bring it. But so it happened that the
Spirit of the Lord met with the publican ; and had made him
think upon his w^ays, and their peculiar blackness : he was full
of trouble, but he kept it to himself, pent up in his own bosom ;
he could scarcely rest at night, nor go about his business by
day, for day and night the hand of God was heavy upon him.
At last, unable to endure his misery any longer, he thought of
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION. 149
that house of God at Zion, and of the sacrifice that was daily-
offered there. " To whom, or where should I go," said he, " but
to God ? — and where can I hope to find mercy, but where the
sacrifice is offered ?" No sooner said than done. He went ;
his unaccustomed feet bent their steps to the sanctuary, but he
is ashamed to enter. Yon Pharisee, holy man as he appeared
to be, goes up unblushingly to the court of the Israelites ; he
goes as near as he dare to the very precincts, within which the
priesthood alone might stand ; and he prays with boastful lan-
guage. But as for the publican, he chooses out for himself
some secluded corner where he shall neither be seen nor heard,
and now he is about to pray, not with uplifted hands as yon-
der Pharisee, not with eyes turned up to heaven with a sancti-
monious gaze of hypocrisy, but fixing his eyes upon the ground,
the hot tears streaming from them, not daring to lift them up
to heaven. At last his stifled feelings found utterance ; yet
that utterance was a groan, a short prayer that must all be
comprehended in the compass of a sigh : " God be merciful to
me a sinner." It is done ; he is hoard ; the angel of mercy
registers his pardon ; his conscience is at peace ; he goes down
to his house a happier man, justified rather than the Pharisee,
and rejoicing in the justification that the Lord had given to
him. Well, then, my business this morning is to invite, to
urge, to beseech you to do what the publican did, that you
may receive what he obtained. There are two particulars
upon which I shall endeavor to speak solemnly and earnestly ;
the first is confession / the second is absolution.
I. Brethren, let us imitate the publican, first of all in his
CONFESSION. There has been a great deal of public excite-
ment during the last few weeks and months about the confes-
sional. As for that matter, it is perhaps a mercy that the out-
ward and visible sign of Popery in the Church of England has
discovered to its sincere friends the inward and spiritual evil
which had long been lurking there. We need not imagine
that the confessional, or priestcraft, of which it is merely an
offshoot, in the Church of England, is any novelty: it has long
been there ; those of us who are outside her borders have long
observed and mourned over it ; but now we congratulate our-
150 CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
selves on the prospect that the Church of England herself will
be compelled to discover her own evils ; and we hope that
God may give her grace and strength to cut the cancer out
of her own breast before she shall cease to be a Protestant
church, and God shall cast her away as an abhorred thing.
This morning, however, I have nothing to do with the confes-
sional. Silly women may go on confessing as long as they
like, and foolish husbands may trust their waives if they please
to such men as those. Let those that are fools show it ; let
those that have no sense do as they please about it ; but as
for myself, I should take the greatest care that neither I
nor mine have aught to do with such things. Leaving
that, however, we come to personal matters, endeavoring
to learn, even from the errors of others, how to act rightly
ourselves.
Note the publican's confession ; to lohom was it presented P
" God be merciful to me a sinner." Did the publican ever
think about going to the priest to ask for mercy, and confess-
ing his sins ? The thought may have crossed his mind, but
his sin was too great a weight upon his conscience to be
relieved in any such way, so he very soon dismissed the idea.
"No," said he, "I feel that my sin is of such a character that
none but God can take it away ; and even if it w^ere right for
me to go and make the confession to my fellow creature, yet
I should think it must be utterly unavailing in my case, for
my disease is of such a nature, that none but an Almighty
Physician ever can remove it." So he directs his confession
and his prayer to one place, and to one alone — " God be mer-
ciful to me a sinner." And you will note in this confession to
God, that it was secret: all that you can hear of his confession
is just that one word — "a sinner." Do you suppose that was
all he confessed ? No, beloved, I believe that long before this,
the publican had made a confession of all his sins privately,
upon his knees in his own house before God. But now, in
God's house, all he has to say for man to hear, is — " I am a
sinner." And I counsel you, if ever you make a confession
before man, let it be a general one, but never a particular one.
You ought to confess often to your fellow creatures that you
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION. 151
have been a sinner, bat to tell to any man in what respect you
have been a sinner, is but to sin over again, and to help your
fellow creature to transgress. How filthy must be the soul of
that priest who makes his ear a common sewer for the filth of
other men's hearts. I can not imagine even the devil to be
more depraved than the man who spends his time in sitting
with liis ear against the lips of men and women who, if they
do truly confess, must make him an adept in every vice, and
school him in iniquities that he otherwise never could have
known. Oh, I charge you never pollute your fellow creature ;
keep your sin to yourself and to your God ; he can not be
polluted by your iniquity; make a plain and full confession of
it before him ; but to your fellow creature add nothing to
the general confession — " I am a sinner !"
This confession which he made before God was spontaneous.
There was no question put to this man as to whether he were
a sinner or no ; as to whether he had broken the seventh com-
mandment, or the eighth, or the ninth,*or the tenth ; no, his
heart was full of penitence, and it melted out in this brenthing
— " God be merciful to me a sinner." They tell us that some
people never can make a full confession except a priest help
them by questions. My dear friends, the very excellence of
penitence is lost, and its spell broken, if there be a question
asked : the confession is not true and real unless it be sponta-
neous. The man can not have felt the weight of sin, who wants
somebody to tell him what his sins are. Can you imagine any
man with a burden on his back, who, before he groaned un-
der it, wanted to be told that he had got one there ? Surely
not. The man groans under it, and he does not want to be
told — " There it is on your back," he knows it is there. And
if, by the questioning of a priest, a full and thorough confes-
sion could be drawn from any man or woman, it would be
totally useless, totally vain before God, because it is not spon-
taneous. Wo must confess our sins because we can not help
confessing them ; it must come out, because we can not keep it
in ; like tire in the bones, it seems as if it would melt our very
spirits unless we gave vent to the groaning of our confession
before the throne of God. See this publican ; you can not
152 CONCESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
hear the abject full confession that he makes ; all that you can
hear is his simple acknowledgment that he is a sinner ; but
that comes spontaneously from his lips ; God himself has not
to ask him the question, but he comes before the throne, and
freely surrenders himself up to the hands of Almighty Justice,
confessing that he is a rebel and a sinner. That is the first
thing we have to note in his confession — that he made it to
God secretly and spontaneously ; and all he said openly was
that he was "a sinner."
Again : %ohat did he confess f He confessed, as our text
tells us, that he was a sinner. Now, how suitable is this prayer
for us ! For is there a Xv^ here jDresent that this confession
will not suit — " God be merciful to me a sinner ?" Do you
say — " the prayer will suit the harlot, when, after a life of sin,
rottenness is in her bones, and she is dying in despair— that
prayer suits her lips ?" Ay, but my friend, it will suit thy
lips and mine too. If thou knowest thy heart, and I know
mine, the prayer that will suit her will suit us also. You have
never committed the sins which the Pharisee disowned ; you
have neither been extortionate, nor unjust, nor an adulterer;
you have never been even as the publican ; but nevertheless
the word " sinner" will still apply to you ; and you will feel it
to be so if you are in a right condition. Remember how much
you have sinned against light. It is true the harlot hath sinned
more openly than you, but had she such light as you have had ?
Do you think she had such an early education and such train-
ing as you have received ? Did she ever receive such check-
ings of conscience and such guardings of providence, as those
which have watched over your career ? This much I must
confess for myself — I do, and must feel a peculiar heinousness
in my own sin, for I sin against light, against conscience, and
more, against the love of God received, and against the mercy
of God promised. Come forward, thou greatest among saints,
and answer this question — does not this prayer suit thee ? I
hear thee answer, without one moment's pause—" Ay, it suits
me now ; and until I die, my quivering lips must often repeat
the petition, ' Lord have mercy upon me a sinner.' " Men
and brethren, I beseech you use this prayer to-day, for it must
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION. „ 153
suit you all. Merchant, hast thou no sins of business to
confess? Woman, hast thou no household sins to acknowl-
edge ? Child of many prayers, hast thou no offense against
father and mother to confess? Have we loved the Lord our
God with all our heart, with all our soul, with all our strength ;
and have we each loved our neighbor as ourself ? Oh, let us
close our hps as to any boasting, and when we open them, let
these be the first words that escape from them, " I have sinned,
O Lord ; I have broken thy commandments ; Lord, have
mercy upon me a sinner." But mark, is it not a strange thing
that the Holy Spirit should teach a man to plead his sinnership
before the throne of God ? One would think that when we
come before God we should try to talk a little of our virtues.
Who would suppose that when a man was asking for mercy
he would say of himself, "I am a sinner?" Why surely rea-
son would prompt him to say, " Lord have mercy upon me ;
there is some good point about me : Lord have mercy upon
me ; I am not worse than my neighbors : Lord have mercy
upon me ; I will try to be better." Is it not against reason,
is it not marvelously above reason, that the Holy Spirit should
teach a man to urge at the throne of grace that which seems
to be against his plea, the fact that he is a sinner ? And yet,
dear brethren, if you and I want to be heard, we must come
to Christ as sinners. Do not let us attempt to make ourselves
better than we are. When we come to God's throne, let us
not for one moment seek to gather any of the false jewels of
our pretended virtues ; rags are the garments of sinners.
Confession is the only music that must come from our lips;
"God be merciful to me — a sinner;" that must be the only
character in which I can pray to God. Now, are there not
many here who feel that they are sinners, and are groaning,
sighing and lamenting, because the weight of sm lies on their
conscience ? Brothrs, I am glad thou feelest thyself to be a
sinner, for thou hast the key of the kingdom in thy hands.
Thy sense of sinnership is thy only title to mercy. Como, I
beseech thee, just as thou art — thy nakedness is thy only claim
on heaven's wardrobe ; thy hunger is thy only claim on hea-
ven's granaries ; thy poverty is thy only claim on heaven's
7*
154 COXPESSIOX AXD ABSOLUTION.
eternal riches. Come just as thou art, with nothing of thine
own, except thy sinfulness, and plead that before the throne
— " God be merciful to me a sinner." This is what this man
confessed, that he was a sinner, and he pleaded it, making the
burden of his confession to be the matter of his plea before
God.
Now again, how does he come f What is the posture that
he assumes ? The first thing I would have you notice is that
he " stood afar off." What did he do that for ? Was it not
because he felt himself a separated man ? We have often made
general confessions in the temple, but there never was a con-
fession accepted, except it was particular, personal, and heart-
felt. There were the people gathered together for the accus-
tomed service of worship ; they join in a jDsalm of praise, but
the poor publican stood far away from them. Anon, they
unite in the order of prayer, still he could not go near them.
No, he was come there for himself, and he must stand by him-
self Like the wounded hart that seeks the deepest glades
of the forest where it may bleed and die alone in profound
solitude, so did this poor publican seem to feel he must be
alone. You notice he does not say any thing about other peo-
ple in his prayer. " God be merciful to me," he says. He
does not say " one of a company of sinners," but " a sinner,"
as if there were not another sinner in all the world. Mark
this, my hearer, that thou must feel thyself solitary and alone,
before thou canst ever pray this prayer acceptably. Has the
Lord ever picked thee out in a congregation ? Has it seemed
to you in this hall as if there were a great black wall round
about you, and you were closed in with the preacher and with
your God, and as if every shaft from the preacher's bow was
leveled at you^ and every threatening meant for you^ and
every solemn upbraiding was an upbraiding ioxyou f If thou
hast felt this, I will congratulate thee. No man ever prayed
this prayer aright unless he prayed alone; unless he said,
*' God be merciful to we," as a solitary, lonely sinner. " The
publican stood afar off."
Note the next thing. " He would not lift up so much as
his eyes unto heaven." That was because he dare not, not
CONTESSION AND ABSOLUTIOJf. 155
because he would not ; he would have done it if he dared.
How remarkable it is that repentance takes all the daring out
of men. We have seen fellows very dare-devils before they
were touched by sovereign grace, who have become afterwards
the most trembling and conscientious men with the tenderest
conscience that one could imagine. Men who were careless,
bragging and defying God, have become as humble as little
children, and even afraid to lift their eyes to heaven, though
once they sent their oaths and curses there. But why did he
not dare to lift his eyes up ? It was because he was dejected
in his "spiiit," so oppressed and burdened tliat he could not
look up. Is that thy case, my friend, this morning ? Are you
afraid to pray ? Do you feel as if you could not hope that
God would have mercy on you ; as if the least gleam of hope
was more light than you could possibly bear ; as if your eyes
were so used to the darkness of doubt and despondency, that
even one stolen ray seemed to be too much for your poor
weak vision ? Ah ! well, fear not, for happy shall it be for
thee ; thou art only following the publican in his sad experi-
ence now, and the Lord who helps thee to follow him in the
confession, shall help thee to rejoice with him in the absolu-
tion.
Note what else he did. He smote upon his breast. He
was a good theologian ; he was a real doctor of divinity.
What did he smite his breast for ? Because he knew where
the mischief lay — in liis breast. He did not smite upon his
blow as some men do when they are perplexed, as if the mis-
take were in their understanding. Many a man will blame his
understanding, while he will not blame his heart, and say,
" Well, I have made a mistake ; I have certainly been doing
wrong, but I am a good-hearted fellow at the bottom." This
man knew where the mischief lay, and he smote the right
place.
" Here on my heart the burden lies."
He smote upon his breast as if he were angry with himself.
He seemed to say, *' Oh ! that I could smite tliee, my ungrate*
ful heart, the harder, that thou hast loved sin rather than
156 CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
God." He did not do penance, and yet it was a kind of pen-
ance upon himself when he smote his breast again and again,
and cried, " Alas ! alas ! woe is me that I should ever have
sinned against my God — ' God be merciful to me a sinner.' "
Now, can you come to God like this, my dear friend ? Oh,
let us all draw near to God in this fashion. Thou hast enough
my brother, to make thee stand alone, for there have been
sins in which thou and I have stood each of us in solitary guilt.
There are iniquities known only to ourselves, which we never
told to the partner of our own bosom, not to our own parents
or brothers, nor yet to the friend with whom we took sweet
counsel. If we have sinned thus alone, let us go to our cham-
bers, and confess alone, the husband apart, and the wife apart,
the father apart, and the child apart. Let us each one wail for
himself. Men and brethren, leave oif to accuse one another.
Cease from the bickerings of your censoriousness, and from
the slanders of your envy. Rebuke yourselves and not your
fellows. Rend your own hearts, and not the reputation of
your neighbors. Come, let each man now look to his own
case, and not to the case of another ; let each cry," Lord have
mercy upon me, as here I stand alone, a sinner." And hast
thou not good reason to cast down thine eyes ? Does it not
seem sometimes too much for us ever to look to heaven again ?
We have blasphemed God, some of us, and even imprecated
curses on our own limbs and eyes ; and when those things
come back to our memory we may well be ashamed to look
up. Or if we have been preserved from the crime of open
blasphemy, how often have you and I forgotten God ! how
often have we neglected prayer ! how have we broken his Sab-
baths and left his Bible unread ! Surely these things, as they
flash across our memory, might constrain us to feel that we
can not lift up so much as our eyes tov>^ard heaven. And as
for smiting on our breast, what man is there among us that
need not do it ? Let us be angry with ourselves, because we
have provoked God to be angry with us. Let us be in wrath
with the sins that have brought ruin upon our souls ; let us
drag the traitors out, and put them at once to a summary
death ; they deserve it well ; they have been our ruin ; let us
CONPESSION AND ABSOLUTION. 157
be their destruction. He smote upon his breast and said,
" God be merciful to me a sinner."
There is one other feature in this man's prayer which you
must not overlook. What reason had he to expect that God
would have any mercy upon him ? The Greek explains more
to us than the EngHsh does ; and the original word here might
be translated — " God be propitiated to me a sinner." There
is in the Greek word a distinct reference to the doctrine of
atonement. It is not the Unitarian's prayer — " God be mer-
ciful to me';'' it is more than that — it is the Christian's prayer,
" God be propitiated toward me, a sinner." There is, I re-
peat it, a distinct appeal to the atonement and the mercy-seat
in this short prayer. Friend, if we would come before God
with our confessions, we must take care that we plead the
blood df Christ. There is no hope for a poor sinner apart
from the cross of Jesus. We may cry, " God be merciful to
me," but the prayer can never be answered apart from the
victim offered, the Lamb slain from before the foundation of
the world. When thou hast thine eye upon the mercy-seat,
take care to have thine eye upon the cross too. Remember
that the cross is, after all, the mercy-seat ; that mercy never
was enthroned until she did hang upon the cross crowned
with thorns. If thou wouldst find pardon, go to dark Geth-
Bcmane, and see thy Redeemer sweating, in deep anguish,
gouts of gore. If thou wouldst have peace of conscience, go
to Gabbatha, the pavement, and see thy Saviour's back flood-
ed with a stream of blood. If thou wouldst have the last
best rest to thy conscience, go to Golgotha ; see the murdered
victim as he hangs upon the cross, with hands and feet and
side all pierced, as every wound is gaping wide with misery
extreme. There can be no hope for mercy apart from the
victim offered — even Jesus Christ the Son of God. Oh ! come,
let us one and all approach the mercy-seat, and plead the blood.
Let us each go and say, " Father, I have sinned ; but have
mercy upon me, through thy Son." Come, drunkard, give
me thy hand ; we will go together. Harlot, give me thy hand
too ; and let us likewise approach the throne. And you, pro-
fessing Christians, come ye also, be not ashamed of your com-
158 CONPESSIOX AND ABSOLUTION".
pnny. Let us come before his presence with many tears, none
of us accusing our fellows, but each one accusing himself; and
let us plead the blood of Jesus Christ, which speaketh peace
and pardon to every troubled conscience.
Careless man, I have a word with thee before I have done
on this point. You say, " Well, that is a good prayer, cer-
tainly, for a man who is dying. When a poor fellow has the
cholera, and sees black death staring him in the face, or when
he is terrified and thunderstruck in the time of storm, or when
he finds himself amid the terrible confusion and alarm of a
perilous catastrophe or a sudden accident, while drawing near
to the gates of death, it is only right that he should say,
'Lord have mercy upon me.' " Ah, friend, the prayer must
be suitable to you then, if you are a dying man ; it must be
suitable to you, for you know not how near you are to'the bor-
ders of the grave. Oh, if thou didst but fully understand the
frailty of life, and the slipperiness of that poor prop on which
thou art resting, thou wouldst say, " Alas for my soul ! if the
prayer will suit me dying, it must suit ine now ; for I am dy-
ing, even this day, and know not when I may come to the
last gasp." " O," says one, " I think it will suit a man that has
been a very great sinner." Correct, my friend, and therefore,
if you knew yourself, it would suit you. You are quite correct
in saying that it won't suit any but great sinners ; and if you
do n't feel yourself to be a great sinner, I know you will never
l^ray it. But there are some here that feel themselves to be what
you ought to feel and know that you are. Such will, constrained
by grace, use the prayer with an emphasis this morning, put-
ting a tear upon each letter, and a sigh upon each syllable, as
they cry, " God be merciful to me a sinner." But mark, my
friend; thou mayest smile contemptuously on the man that
makes this confession, but he shall go from this house justified
while thou shalt go away still in thy sins, without a hope,
without a ray of joy to cheer thy unchastened spirit.
II. Having thus briefly described this confession, I come
more briefly still to notice the absoltjtion which God gave.
Absolution from the lips of man I do believe is little short
of blasphemy. There is in the Prayer-book of the Church of
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION. 159
England an absolution -vvhicb is essentially Popish, which I
should think must be almost a verbatim extract from the Rom-
ish missal. I do not hesitate to say that there was never
any thhig more blasphemous printed in Holywell street than
the absolution that is to be pronounced by a clergyman over
a dying man ; and it is positively frightful to think that any
persons calling themselves Christians should rest easy in a
church until they have done their utmost to get that most ex
cellent book tlioroughly reformed and revised, and to get the
Popery purged out of it. But there is such a thing as abso-
lution, my friends, and the publican received it. " He went
to his house justified rather than the other." The other had
nought of peace revealed to his heart ; this poor man had all,
and he went to his house justified. It does not say that he
went to his house, having eased his mind ; that is true, but
more: he went to his house "justified." What does that
mean ? It so happens that the Greek word here used is the
one which the apostle Paul always employs to set out the
great doctrine of the righteousness of Jesus Christ — even the
righteousness which is of God by faith. The fact is, that the
moment the man prayed the prayer, every sin he had ever
done was blotted out of God's book, so that it did not stand
on the record against him ; and more, the moment that prayer
was heard in heaven, the man was reckoned to be a right-
eous man. All that Christ did for him was cast about his
shoulders to be the robe of his beauty, that moment all the
guilt that he had ever committed himself was washed entirely
away and lost for ever. When a sinner believes in Christ, his
sins positively cease to be, and what is more wonderful, they
all cease to be, as Kent says in those well-known lines —
" Hero's pardon for transgressions past,
It matters not how black their cast
And, ray soul with wonder view,
For sins to come here's pardon too."
They are all swept away in one solitary instant ; the crimes of
many years — extortions, adulteries, or even murder, wiped
away in an instant ; for you will notice the absolution was in-
100 CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
stantaneously given. God did not say to the man — "Now
you must go and' perform some good works, and then I will
give you absolution." He did not say as the Pope does,
" !N"ow you must swelter awhile in the fires of Purgatory, and
then I will let you out." ISTo, he justified him there and then ;
the pardon was.given as soon as the sin was confessed. " Go,
my son, in peace ; I have not a charge against thee ; thou art
a sinner in thine own estimation, but thou art none in mine ;
I have taken all thy sins away, and cast them into the depth
of the sea, and they shall be mentioned against thee no more
for ever." Can you tell what a happy man the publican was,
w^hen all in a moment he was changed ? If you may reverse
the figure used by Milton, he seemed himself to have been a
loathsome toad, but the touch of the Father's mercy made
him rise to angelic brightness and delight ; and he went out
of that house with his eye upward, no longer afraid. Instead
of the groan that was on his heart, he had a song upon his Up.
He no longer walked alone ; he sought out the godly and he
said, " Come and hear, ye that fear God, and I will tell you
what he has done for my soul." He did not smite upon his
breast, but he went home to get down his harp, and play upon
the strings, and praise his God. You would not have known
that he was the same man, if you had seen him going out ;
and all that was done in a minute. " But," says one, " do you
think he knew for certain that all his sins were forgiven ? Can
a man know that ?" Certainly he can. And there be some
here that can bear witness that this is true. They have known
it themselves. The pardon which is sealed in heaven is re-
sealed in our own conscience. The mercy which is recorded
above is made to shed its light into the darkness of our hearts.
Yes, a man may know on earth that his sins are forgiven, and
may be as sure that he is a pardoned man as he is of his own
existence. And now I hear a cry from some one saying,
" And may I be pardoned this morning ? and may I know that
I am pardoned ? May I be so pardoned that all shall be for-
gotten — I who have been a drunkard, a swearer, or what not ?
May I have all my transgressions washed away ? May I be
made sure of heaven, and all that in a moment V" Yes, my
CONFESSION" AND ABSOLUTION. 161
friend, if thou believest in the Lord Jesus Chris^t, if thou wilt
stand where thou art, and just breathe this prayer out, " Lord,
have mercy ! God be merciful to me a sinner, through the
blood of Christ." I tell thee man, God never did deny that
prayer yet ; if it came out of honest lips he never shut the
gates of mercy on it. It is a solemn litany that shall be used
as long as time shall last, and it shall pierce the ears of God as
long as there is a sinner to use it. Come, be not afraid, I be-
seech you, use the prayer before you leave this hall. Stand
where you are ; endeavor to realize that you are alone, and if
you feel that you are guilty, now let the prayer ascend. Oh,
what a marvelous thing, if from, the thouHmds of hearts here
present, so many thousand prayers might go up to God !
Surely the angels themselves never had such a day in Paradise,
as they would have to-day, if every one of us could unfeign-
edly make that confession. Some are doing it ; I know they
are ; God is helping them. And sinner, do you stay away ?
You, who have most need to come, do you refuse to join with
us ? Come, brother, come. You say you are too vile. No,
brother, you can not be too vile to say, "God be merciful to
me." Perhaps you are no viler than we are ; at any rate, this
we can say — we feel ourselves to be viler than you, and we
want you to pray the same prayer that we have prayed. " Ah,"
says one, " I can not ; my heart won't yield to that ; I can not."
But friend, if God is ready to have mercy upon thee, thine
must be a hard heart, if it is not ready to receive his mercy.
Spirit of God, breathe on the hard heart, and melt it now !
Help the man who feels that carelessness is overcoming him —
help him to get rid of it from this hour. You are struggling
against it ; you are saying, " Would to God I could pray, th:it
I could go back to be a boy or a child again, and then I could ;
but I have got hardened and grown gray in sin, and j^rayer
would be hypocrisy in me." No, brother, no, it would not.
If thou canst but cry it from thy heart, I beseech thee say it.
Many a man thinks he is a hypocrite, when he is not, and is
afraid that he is not sincere, when his very fear is a proof of
his sincerity. "But," says one, "I have no redeeming trait ia
my character at all." I am glad you think so ; still you may
162 CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION.
use the prayer, " God be merciful to me." " But it will be a
useless prayer," says one. My brother, I assure thee, not in
my own name, but in the name of God, my Father and your
Father, it shall not be a useless prayer. As sure as God is
God, him that cometh unto Christ he Avill in no wise cast out.
Come with me now, I beseech thee ; tarry no longer ; the
bowels of God are yearning over thee. Thou art his child, and
he will not give thee up. Thou hast run from him these many
years, but he has never forgotten thee ; thou hast resisted all
his warnings until now, and he is almost weary, but still he
has said concerning thee, "How shall I make thee as Admah ;
how shall I set thee as Zeboim ? Mine heart is turned within
me, my repentings are kindled together."
" Come humbled sinner, in whose breast
A thousand thoughts revolve ;
Come with thy guilt and fear oppressed,
And make this last resolve :
I'll go to Jesus, though my sin
Hath like a mountain rose ;
I know his courts ; I'll enter in,
Whatever may oppose.
Prostrate I'll he before his face,
And there my sins confess ;
I'll tell him I'm a wretch undone,
Without his sovereign grace,"
Go home to your houses ; let every one — preacher, deacon,
people, ye of the church, and ye of the world, every one of
you, go home, and ere you feast your bodies, pour out your
hearts before God, and let this one cry go up from all our lips,
" God be merciful to me a sinner."
I pause. Bear with me.
I must detain you a few moments. Let us use this prayer
as our own now. Oh that it might come up before the Lord
at this time as the earnest supplication of every heart in this
assembly ! I will repeat it — not as a text, but as a prayer — as
my own prayer ; as your prayer. Will each one of you take it
CONFESSION AND ABSOLUTION. 163
personally for himself? Let every one, I entreat yon, who
desires to offer the prayer, and can join in it, utter at its close
an audible " Amen."
Let us pray.
"GOD-BE-MERCIFUL-TO-ME-A-SINNER."
\And the people did with deep solemnity say] " AMEN.'
SERMON X.
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE.
" Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee, because thou hast left thy
first love." — Revelation, ii. 4.
It is a great thing to have as mucli said in our commenda-
tion as was said concerning the church at Ephesus. Just read
what " Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness," said of them
— "I know thy works, and thy labor, and thy patience, and
how thou canst not bear them which are evil : and thou hast
tried them which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast
found them liars: and hast borne, and hast patience, and for
my name's sake hast labored, and hast not fainted." Oh, my
dear brothers and sisters, we may feel devoutly thankful if
we can humbly, but honestly say, that this commendation ap-
plies to us. Happy the man whose works are known and ac-
cepted of Christ. He is no idle Christian, he has practical
godliness ; he seeks by works of piety to obey God's whole
law, by works of charity to manifest his love to the brother-
hood, and by works of devotion to show his attachment to
the cause of his Master. " I know thy works." Alas ! some
of you can not get so far as that. Jesus Christ himself can
bear no witness to your works, for you have not done any.
You are Christians by profession, but you are not Christians
as to your practice. I say again, happy is that man to whom
Chi'ist can say, " I know thy works." It is a commendation
worth a world to have as much as that said of us. But fur-
ther, Christ said, " and thy labor." This is more still. Many
Christians have works, but only few Christians have labor.
There were many preachei'S in Whitfield's day that had woiks,
but Whitfield had labor. He toiled and travailed for souls.
He was " in labors more abundant." Many were they in the
DECa:.ENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 1G6
apostles' days who did works for Christ; but preeminently
the apostle Paul did labor for souls. It is not work merely,
it is anxious work ; it is casting forth the whole strength, and
exercising all the energies for Christ. Could the Lord Jesus
say as much as that of you — " I know thy labor ?" No. He
might say, "I know thy loitering; I know thy laziness; I
know thy shirking of the work ; I know thy boasting of what
little thou dost ; I know thine ambition to be thought some-
thing of, when thou art nothing." But ah ! friends, it is more
than most of us dare to hope that Christ could say, " I know
thy labor."
But further, Christ says, "I know thy patience." !N'ow
there be some that labor, and they do it well. But what does
hinder them ? They only labor for a little season, and then
they cease to work and begin to faint. But this church had
labored on for many years ; it had thrown out all its energies
— not in some spasmodic eftbrt, but in a continual strain and
unabated zeal for the glory of God. " I know thy patience."
I say again, beloved, I tremble to think how few out of this con-
gi-egation could win such praise as this. " I know thy works,
and thy labors, and thy patience, and how thou canst not bear
them which are evil." The thorough hatred which the church
had of evil doctrine, of evil practice, and its corresponding
intense love for pure truth and pure practice — in that, I trust,
some of us can bear a part. "And thou hast tried them
which say they are apostles, and are not, and hast found them
liars." Here, too, I think, some of us may hope to be clear.
I know the difference between truth and error. Arminian-
isra will never go down with us ; the doctrine of men will
not suit our taste. The husk, the bran, and the chaff, are not
things that we can feed upon. And when we listen to those
who preach another gospel, a holy anger burns within us, for
we love the truth as it is in Jesus ; and nothing but that will
satisfy us. " And hast borne, and hast patience, and for my
name's sake hast labored, and hast not fainted." They had
borne persecutions, difficulties, hardships, embarrassments, and
discouragements yet had they never flagged, but always con-
tinued faithful. Who among us here present could lay claim
k
166 DECLENSION FEOM FIRST LOTE.
to SO much praise as this ? What Sunday School teacher have
I here who could say, " I have labored, and I have borne, and
have had patience, and have not fainted ?" Ah, dear friends,
if you can say it, it is more than I can. Ofcen have I been
ready to faint in tiie Master's work ; and though I trust I have
not been tired of it, yet there has been sometimes a longing
to get from the work to the reward, and to go from the ser-
vice of God, before I had fulfilled, as a hierling, my day. I
am afraid we have not enough of patience, enough of labor,
and enough of good works, to get even as much as this said
of us. But it is in our text, I fear the mass of us must find
our character. " Nevertheless I have somewhat against thee,
because thou hast left thy first love." There may be a preacher
here present. Did you ever hear of a minister who had to
preach his own funeral sermon? What a labor that must
have been, to feel that he had been condemned to die, and
must preach against himself, and condemn himself! I stand
here to night, not in that capacity, but in one somewhat sim-
ilar. I feel that I who preach shall this night condemn my-
self; and my prayer before I entered this pulpit was, that I
might fearlessly discharge my duty, that I might deal honestly
with my own heart, and that I might preach, knowing mysell
to be the chief culprit, and you each in your measure to have
oflfended in this resjDect, even though none of you so griev-
ously as I have done. I pray that God the Holy Spirit,
through his renewings, may apply the word, not merely to
your hearts, but to mine, that I may return to my first love,
and that you may return with me.
In the first place, lohat was our first love, f Secondly,
how did we lose it f And thirdly, let me exhort you to get. it
again.
I. First, WHAT WAS OUR FIRST LOVE ? Oh, let us go back
— it is not many years with some of us. We are but young-
sters in God's way, and it is not so long with any of you that
you will have very great difiiculyt in reckoning it. Then if
you are Christians, those days were so happy that your mem-
ory will never forget them, and therefore you can easily re-
turn to that first bright spot in your history. Oh, what love
DECLENSION FROil FIRST LOVE. 167
was that which I had to my Saviour the first time he forgave
my sins. I reinembor it. You remember each for youiselves,
I dare say, that happy hour when the Lord appeared to us,
bleeding on his cross, when he seemed to say, and did say in
our hearts, "I am thy salvation ; I have blotted out like a cloud
thine iniquities, and like a thick cloud thy sins." Oh, how I
loved him-! Passing all loves except his own was that love
which I felt for him then. If beside the door of the place in
which I met with him there had been a stake of blazing fagots,
I would have stood upon them without chains ; glad to give my
flesh, and blood, and bones, to bo ashes that should testify my
love to him. Had he asked me then to give all my substance
to the poor, I would have given all and thought myself to be
amazingly rich in having beggared myself for his name's sake.
Had he commanded me then to preach in the midst of all his
foes, I could have said,
" There's not a lamb amongst thy flock
I would disdain to feed,
There's not a foe before whose face
I'd fear thy cause to plead."
I could realize then the language of Rutherford, when he said,
being full of love to Christ, once upon a time, in the dungeon
of Aberdeen — " Oh, my Lord, if there were a broad hell be-
twixt me and thee, if I could not get at thee except by wad-
ing through it, I would not think twice but I would plunge
through it all, if I might embrace thee and call thee mine."
Now it is that first love that you and I must confess I am
afraid we have in a measure lost. Let us just see whether we
have it. When we first loved the Saviour, how earnest wo
were ; there was not a single thing in the Bible, that we did
not think most precious; there was not one command of his
that we did not think to be like fine gold and choice silver.
Never were the doors of his house open without our being
there : if there were a prayer meeting at any liour in the day
we were there. Some said of us that we had no patience, wo
would do too much and expose our bodies too frequently — but
we never thought of that. " Do thyself no harm," was spoken
168 DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE.
in our ears; "but we would have done any thing then. Why-
there are some of you who can not walk to the Music Hall on
a morning, it is too far. When you first joined the church,
you would have walked twice as far. There are some of you
who can not be at the prayer meeting — business will not per-
mit ; yet when you were first baptized, there was never a
prayer meeting from which you were absent. It is the loss of
your first love that makes you seek the comfort of your bodies
instead of the prosperity of your souls. Many have been the
young Christians who have joined this church, and old ones
too, and I have said to them, " Well, have you got a ticket
for a seat ?" " No, sir." " Well, what will you do ? Have
you got a preference ticket ?" " No, I can not get one ; but
I do not mind standing in the crowd an hour, or two hours. I
will come at five o'clock so that I can get in. Sometimes I
do n't get in, sir ; but even then I feel that I have done what
I ought to do in attempting to get in." " Well," but I have
said, " you live five miles off", and there is coming and going
back twice a day — you can not do it." " Oh, sir," they have
said, " I can do it ; I feel so much the blessedness of the Sab-
bath and so much enjoyment of the presence of the Saviour."
I have smiled at them ; I could understand it, but I have not
felt it necessary to caution them — and now their love is cool
enough. That first love does not last half so long as we could
wish. Some of you stand convicted even here ; you have not
that blazing love, that burning love, that ridiculous love as the
worldling would call it, which is after all the love to be most
coveted and desired. No, you have lost your first love in that
respect. Again, how obedient you used to be. If you saw a
commandment, that was enough for you — you did it. But
now you see a commandment, and you see profit on the other
side ; and how often do you dally with the profit and choose
the temptation, instead of yielding an unsullied obedience to
Christ.
Again, how happy you used to be in the ways of God. Your
love was of that happy character that you could sing all day
long ; but now your religion has lost its luster, the gold has
become dim ; you know that when you come to the sacramental
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 169
table, you very often come there without enjoying it. There
was a time when every bitter thing was sweet ; whenever you
heard the Word, it was all precious to you. Now you can
grumble at the minister. Alas ! the minister has many faults,
but the question is, whether there has not been a greater
change in you than there has been in him. Many there are
who say, " I do not hear Mr. So-and-So as I used to" — when
the fault lies in their own ears. Oh, brethren, when we live
near to Christ, and are in our first love, it is amazing what a
little it takes to make a good preacher to us. Why, I confess
I have heard a poor illiterate Primitive Methodist preach the
gospel, and I felt as if I could jump for joy all the while I was
listening to him, and yet he never gave me a new thought or
a pretty expression, nor one figure that I could remember, but
he talked about Christ; and even his common things were to my
hungry spirit like dainty meats. And I have to acknowledge,
and, perhaps, you all have to acknowledge the same — that I
have heard sermons from which I ought to have profited, but I
have been thinking of the man's style, or some little mistakes
in grammar. When I might have been holding fellowship
with Christ in and through the ministry, I have, instead there-
of, been getting abroad in my thoughts even to the ends of
the earth. And what is the reason of this, but that I have
lost my first love ?
Again : when we were in our first love, what would we do
for Christ ; now how little will we do. Some of the actions
which we performed when we were young Christians, but just
converted, when we look back upon them, seem to have been
wild and like idle tales. You remember when you were a lad
and first came to Christ, you had a half sovereign in your
pocket ; it was the only one you had, and yet you met with
some poor saint and gave it all away. You did not regret that
you had done it, your only regret was that you had not a great
deal more, for you would have given all. You recollected that
something was wanted for the cause of Christ. Oh ! we could
give any thing away when we first loved the Saviour. If there
was a preacliing to be held five miles off", and we could walk
with the lay-preacher to be a little comfort to him in the dark-
8
170 DECLENSION FEOM FIRST LOVE.
ness, we were off. If there was a Sunday School, however
early it might be, we would be up, so that we might be pres-
ent. Unheard of feats, things that we now look back upon
with surprise, we could perform then. Why can not we do
them now ? Do you know there are some people who always
live upon what they have been. I speak very plainly now.
There is a brother in this church who may take it to himself;
I hojDe he will. It is not very many years ago since he said to
me, when I asked him why he did not do something — " Well,
I have done my share ; I used to do this, and I have done the
other ; I have done so-and-so." Oh, may the Lord deliver
him, and all of us, from living on " has beens !" It will never
do to say we have done a thing. Suppose, for a solitary mo-
ment, the world should say, " I have turned round ; I will
stand still." Let the sea say, "I have been ebbing and flow-
ing, lo ! these many years ; I will ebb and flow no more." Let
the sun say, " I have been shining, and I have been rising and
setting so many days; I have done this enough to earn me a
goodly name ; I will stand still ;" and let the moon wrap her-
self up in vails of darkness, and say, " I have illuminated
many a night, and I have lighted many a weary traveler across
the moors; I will shut up my lamp and be dark for ever."
Brethren, when you and I cease to labor, let us cease to live.
God has no intention to let us live a useless life. But mark
this ; when we leave our first works, there is no question about
our having lost our first love ; that is sure. If there be strength
remaining, if there be still power, mentally and physically, if
we cease from our ofiice, if we abstain from our labors, there
is no solution of this question which an honest conscience will
accept, except this, " Thou hast lost thy first love, and, there-
fore, thou hast neglected thy first works." Ah ! we were all
so very ready to make excuse for ourselves. Many a preacher
has retired from the ministry, long before he had any need to
do so. He has married a rich wife. Somebody has lefl him a
little money, and he can do without it. He was growing
weak in the ways of God, or else he would have said,
" My body with my charge lay down,
And cease at once to work and live."
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 171
And let any man here present who was a Sunday School teacher
and who has left it, who was a tract distributor and who has
given it up, who was active in the way of God but is now idle,
stand to-night before the bar of his conscience, and say whether
he be not guilty of this charge which I bring against him, that
he has lost his first love.
I need not stop to say also, that this may be detected in the
closet as well as in our daily life ; for when the first love is
lost, there is a want of that prayerfulness which we have. I
remember the day I was baptized, I was up at three o'clock in
the morning. Till six, I spent in prayer, wrestling with God.
Then I had to walk some eight miles, and started off and
walked to the baptism. Why, prayer was a delight to me
then. My duties at that time kept me occupied pretty well
from five o'clock in the morning till ten at night, and I had
not a moment for retirement, yet I would be up at four o'clock
to pray ; and though I feel very sleepy now-a-days, and I feel
that I could not be up to pray, it was not so then, when I was
in my first love. Somehow or other, I never lacked time then.
If I did not get it early in the morning, I got it late at night.
I was compelled to have time for prayer with God ; and what
prayer it was ! I had no need then to groan because I could
not pray ; for love, being fervent, I had sweet liberty at the
throne of grace. But when first love departs, we begin to
think that ten minutes will do for prayer, instead of an hour,
and we read a verse or two in the morning, whereas we used
to read a portion, but never used to go into the world with-
out getting some marrow and fatness. Now, business has so
increased, that we must get into bed as soon as we can ; we
have not time to pray. And then at dinner time we used to
have a little time for communion ; that is dropped. And then
on the Sabbath day, we used to make it a custom to pray to
God when we got home from his house, for just five miimtes
before dinner, so that what we heard we might profit by ; that
is dropped. And some of you that are present were in the
habit of retiring for prayer when you went home ; your wives
have told that story ; the messengers have heard it when they
have called at your houses, when they have asked the wife —
172 DECLENSION PROM FIRST LOVE.
"Where is your husband?" "Ah!" she has said, "he is a
godly man ; he can not come home to his breakfast but he
must slip up-stairs alone. I know what he is doing— ^he is
praying." Then when he is at table, he often says — " Mary, I
have had a difficulty to-day, we must go and have a word or
two of prayer together." And some of you could not take a
walk without a prayer ; you were so fond of it you could not
have too much of it. Now where is it ? You know more
than you did ; you have grown older ; you have grown richer,
perhaps. You have grown wiser in some respects ; but you
might give up all you have got, to go back to
" Those peaceful hours you once enjoyed,
How sweet their memory still 1"
Oh, what would you give if you could fill
" That aching void
The world can never fill,"
but which only the same love that you had at first, can ever
fully satisfy !
II. And now, beloved, where did you and I lose our
FIRST LOVE, if we havc lost it ? Let each one speak for him-
self, or rather let me speak for each.
Have you not lost your first love in the world, some of you ?
You used to have that little shop once, you had not very much
business ; well, you had enough, and a little to spare. How-
ever, there was a good turn came in business ; you took two
shops, and you are getting on very well. Is it not marvelous,
that when you grew richer and had more business, you began
to have less grace ?
Oh, friends, it is a very serious thing to grow rich ! Of all
the temptations to which God's children are exposed it is the
worst, because it is one that they do not dread, and therefore
it is the more subtle temptation. You know a traveler, if he
is going a journey, takes a staff with him, it is a help to him ;
but suppose he is covetous, and says, " I will have a hundred
of these sticks," that will be no help to him at all ; he has only
got a load to carry, and it stops his progress instead of assist
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 1Y8
ing him. But I do believe that there are many Christians
that lived near to God, when they were living on a pound a
week, that might give up their yearly incomes with the great-
est joy, if they could have now the same contentment, the
same peace of mind, the same nearness of access to God, that
they had in times of poverty. Ah, too much of the world is
a bad thing for any man ! I question very much whether a
man ought not sometimes to stop, and say, " There is an op-
portunity of doing more trade, but it will require the whole
of my time, and I must give up that hour I have set apart for
prayer; I will not do the trade at all; I have enough, and
therefore let it go. I w^ould rather do trade with heaven than
trade with earth."
Again : do you not think also that perhaps you may have
lost your first love by getting too much with worldly people ?
When you were in your first love, no company suited you but
the godly ; but now you have got a young man that you talk
with, who talks a great deal more about frivolity, and gives
you a great deal more of the froth and scum of levity, than
he ever gives you of solid godliness. Once you were sur-
rounded by those that fear the Lord, but now you dwell in the
tents of "Freedom," where you hear little but cursing. But,
friends, he that carrieth coals in his bosom must be burned ;
and he that hath ill companions can not but be injured. Seek,
then, to have godly friends, that thou mayest maintain thy
first love.
But another reason Do you not think that perhaps you
have forgotten how much you owe to Christ ? There is one
thing that I feel from experience I am compelled to do very
often, viz., to go back to where I first started : —
" I, the chief of sinners am,
But Jesus died for me."
You and I get talking about our being samts ; we know our
election, we rejoice in our calling, we go on to sanctification ;
and we forget the hole of the pit whence we were digged.
Ah, remember my brother, thou art nothing now but a sinner
saved through grace ; remember what thou wouldst have been,
174 DECLENSION FEOM FIRST LOYE.
if the Lord had left thee. And surely, then, by going back
continually to first principles, and to the great foundation
stone, the cross of Christ, thou wilt be led to go back to thy
first love.
Dost thou not think, again, that thou hast lost thy first
love by neglecting communion with Christ? Now preacher,
preach honestly, and preach at thyself. Has there not been,
sometimes, this temptation to do a great deal for Christ but
not to live a great deal with Christ? One of my beset-
ting sins, I feel, is this. If there is any thing to be done
actively for Christ, I instinctively prefer the active exercise
to the passive quiet of his presence. There are some of you,
perhaps, that are attending a Sunday School, w^ho would be
more profitably employed to your own souls if you were
spending that hour in communion with Christ. Perhaps, too,
you attend the means so often that you have no time in secret
to improve what you gain in the means. Mrs. Bury once said
that if " all the twelve apostles were preaching in a certain
town, and we could have the privilege of hearing them preach,
yet if they kept us out of our closets, and led us to neglect
prayer, better for us never to have heard their names, than to
have gone to listen to them." We shall never love Christ
much except we live near to him. Love to Christ is depend-
ent on oar nearness to him. It is just like the planets and the
sun. Why are some of the planets cold ? Why do they move
at so slow a rate? Simply because they are so far from the
sun ; put them where the planet Mercury is, and they will be
in a boiling heat, and spin round the sun in rapid orbits. So,
beloved, if we live near to Christ, we can not help loving him :
the heart that is near Jesus must be full of his love. But
when we live days and weeks and months without personal in-
tercourse, without real fellowship, how can we maintain love
towards a stranger ? He must be a friend, and we must stick
close to him, as he sticks close to us — closer than a brother ;
or else we shall never have our first love.
There are a thousand reasons that I might have given, but
I leave each of you to search your hearts, to find out why you
have lost, each of you, your first love.
DECT.ENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 1V5
in. Now, dear friends, just give me all your attention for
a moment, while I earnestly beseech and implore of you to
SEEK TO GET YOUR FIRST LOVE RESTORED. Shall I tell yoU
why ? Brother, though thou be a child of God, if thou hast
lost thy first love, there is some trouble near at hand. " Whom
the Lord loveth he chasteneth," and he is sure to chasten thee
when thou smnest. It is calm with you to-night, is it ? Oh !
but dread that calm, there is a tempest lowering. Sin is the
harbinger of tempest : read the history of David. All David's
life, in all his troubles, even in the rocks of the wild goats, and
in the caves of Engedi, he was the happiest of men till he lost
his first love ; and from the day w^hen his lustful eye was fixed
upon Bathsheba, even to the last, he went with broken bones
sorrowing to his grave. It was one long string of afiiictions :
take heed it be not so with thee. " Ah, but," you say, " I
shall not sin as David did." Brother, you can not tell : if you
have lost your first love what should hinder you but that you
should lose your first purity? Love and purity go together.
He that loveth is pure ; he that loveth little shall find his
purity decrease, until it becomes marred and polluted. I
should not like to see you, my dear friends, tried and troubled :
I do weep with them that weep. If there be a child of yours
sick, and I hear of it, I can say honestly, I do feel something
like a father to your children, and as a father to you. If you
have sufferings, and I know them, I desire to feel for you, and
spread your griefs before the throne of God. Oh, I do not
want my heavenly Father to take the rod out to you all; but
he will do it, if you fall from your first love. As sure as ever
he is a Father, he will let you have tho rod if your love cools.
Bastards may escape the rod. If you are only base-born pro-
fessors you may go happily along ; but the true-born child of
God, when his love declines, must and shall smart for it.
There is yet another thing, my dear friends, if we lose our
first love — what will the world say of us if we lose our first
love ? I must put this, not for our name's sake, but for God's
dear name's sake. O what will the world say of us? There
was a time, and it is not gone yet, when men must point at
this church, and say of it, " There is a church that is like a
176 DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE.
bright oasis in the midst of a desert, a spot of light in the
midst of darkness." Our prayer meetings were prayer meet-
ings indeed, the congregations were as attentive as they were
numerous. Oh, how you did drink in the words ; how your
eyes flashed with a living fire whenever the name of Christ
was mentioned ! And what, if in a little time it shall be said,
" Ah, that churcli is quite as sleepy as any other ; look at
them when the minister preaches, why they can sleep under
him, they do not seem to care for the truth. Look at the
Spurgeonites, they are just as cold and careless as others;
they used to be called the most pugnacious people in the
world, for they were always ready to defend their Master's
name and their Master's truth, and they got that name in con-
sequence, but now you may swear in their presence and they
will not rebuke you : how near these people once used to live
to God* and his house, they were always there ; look at their
prayer meetings, they would fill their seats as full at a prayer
meeting as at an ordinary service ; now they are all gone
back." "Ah," says the world, "just what I said ; the fact is,
it was a mere spasm, a little spiritual excitement, and it has
all gone down." And the worldling says, " Ah, ah, so would
I have it, so would I have it !" I was reading only the other
day of an account of my ceasing to be popular ; it was said
my chapel was now nearly empty, that nobody went to it ;
and I was exceedingly amused and interested. " Well, if it
come to that," I said, " I shall not grieve or cry very much ;
but if it is said the church has left its zeal and first love, that
is enough to break any honest pastor's heart." Let the chafi
go, but if the wheat remain we have comfort. Let those who
are the outer-court worshipers cease to hear, what signifieth ?
let them turn aside, but O, ye soldiers of the cross, if ye turn
your backs in the day of battle, where shall I hide my head ?
what shall I say for the great name of my Master, or for the
honor of his gospel ? It is our boast and joy, that the old-
fashioned doctrine has been revived in these days, and that
the truth that Calvin preached, that Paul preached, and that
Jesus preached, is still mighty to save, and far surpasses in
power all the neologies and new-fangled notions of the present
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 177
time. But what will the heretic say, when he sees it is all
over ? " Ah," he will say, " that old truth urged on by the
fanaticism of a foolish young man, did wake the people a little ;
l>ut it lacked marrow and strength, and it all died away !"
Will ye thus dishonor your Lord and Master, ye children of
the heavenly King ? I beseech you do not so — but endeavor
to receive again, as a rich gift of the Spiiit, your first love.
And now, once again, deai* friends, there is a thought that
ought to make each of us feel alarmed, if we have lost our first
love. May not this question arise in our hearts — Was I ever
a child of God at all ? Oh, my God, must I ask myself this
question ? Yes, I will. Are there not many of whom it is
said, they went out from us because they were not of us ; for
if they had been of us, doubtless they would have continued
with us ? Are there not some whose goodness is as the morn-
ing cloud and as the early dew — may that not have been my
case ? I am speaking for you all. ' Put the question — may I
not have been impressed under a certain sermon, and may not
that impression have been a mere carnal excitement ? May
it not have been that I thought I repented but did not really
repent? May it not have been the case, that I got a hope
somewhere but had not a right to it ? And I never had the
loving faith that unites me to the Lamb of God. And may it
not have been that I only thought I had love to Christ, and
never had it, for if I really had love to Christ should I be as
I now am? See how far I have come down ! may I not keep
on going down until my end shall be perdition, and the never-
dying worm, and the fire unquenchable ? Many have gone
from heights of a profession to the depths of damnation, and
may not I be the same ? May it not be true of me that I am
as a wandering star for whom is reserved blackness of dark-
ness for ever ? May I not have shone brightly in the midst
of the church for a little while, and yet may I not be one of
those poor foolisih virgins who took no oil in my vessel with
my lamp, and therefore my lamp will go out ? Let me think,
if I go on as I am, it is impossible for me to stop ; if I am going
downwards I may go on going downwards. And O my God,
if I go on backsliding for another year — who knows where I
8*
178 DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE.
may have backslidden to ? Perhaps into some gross sin.
Prevent, prevent it by thy grace ! Perhaps I may backslide
totally. If I am a child of God I know I can not do that.
Bat still, may it not happen that I only thought I was a child
of God, and may I not so far go back that at last my very
name to live shall go because I always have been dead ? Oh !
bow dreadful it is to think and to see in our church, members
who turn out to be dead members ! If I could weep tears of
blood, they would not express the emotion that I ought to
feel, and that you ought to feel, when you think there are
some among us that are dead branches of a living vine. Our
deacons find that there is much of unsoundness in our members.
I grieve to think that because we can not see all our members,
there are many who have backslidden. There is one who
says, "I joined the church, it is true, but I never was con-
verted. I made a profession of being converted, but I was
not, and now I take no delight in the things of God. I am
moral, I attend the house of prayer, but I am not converted.
My name may be taken off the books ; I am not a godly man."
There are others among you who perhaps have gone even
further than that — have gone in*?> sin, and yet I may not
know it. It may not come to my ears in so large a church as
this. Oh ! I beseech you, my dear friends, by him that liveth
and was dead, let not your good be evil spoken of, by losing
your first love.
Are there some among you that Sire professing religion, and
not possessing it ? Oh, give up your profession, or else get
the truth and sell it not. Go home, each of you, and cast
yourselves on your faces before God, and ask him to search
you, and try you, and know your ways, and see if there be
any evil way in you, and pray that he may lead you in the
way everlasting. And if hitherto you have only professed,
but have not possessed, seek ye the Lord while he may be
found, and call ye upon him while he is near. Ye are warned,
each one of you ; you are solemnly told to search yourselves
and make short work of it. And if any of you be hypocrites,
at God's great day, guilty as I may be in many respects, there
13 one thing I am clear of — ^I have not shunned to declare the
DECLENSION FROM FIRST LOVE. 179
whole counsel of God. I do not believe that any people in
the world shall be damned more terribly than you shall if you
perish ; for of this thing I have not shunned to speak — the
great evil of making a profession without being sound at heart.
No, I have even gone so near to personality, that I could not
have gone further without mentioning your names. And rest
assured, God's grace being with me, neither you nor myself
shall be spared in the pulpit in any personal sin that I may
observe in any one of you. But oh, do let us be sincere !
May the Lord sooner split this church till only a tenth of you
remain, than ever suffer you to be multiplied a hundred-fold
unless you be multiplied with the living in Zion, and with the
holy flock that the Lord himself hath ordained, and will keep
unto the end. To-morrow morning we shall meet together
and pray that we may have our first love restored ; and I
hope many of you will be found there to seek again the love
which you have almost lost.
And as for you that never had that love at all, the Lord
breathe it upon you now for the love of Jesus. Amen.
SERMON XI.
GOD'S BARRIERS AGAINST MAN'S SIN.
"Fear ye not me? saith the Lord; will ye not tremble at my presence,
which have placed the sand for the bound of the sea by a perpetual decree,
that it can not pass it : and though the waves thereof toss themselves, yet
can they not prevail ; though they roar, yet can they not pass over it ? But
this people hath a revolting and a rebellious heart ; they are revolted and
gone." — Jeremiah, v. 22, 23.
The majesty of God, as displayed in creation and provi-
dence, ought to stir up our hearts in adoring wonder and
melt them down in willing obedience to his commands. The
Almighty power of Jehovah, so clearly manifest in the works
of his hands, should constrain us, his creatures, to fear his
name and prostrate ourselves in humble reverence before his
throne. When we know that the sea, however tempestuous, is
entirely submissive to the behests of God ; that when he saith,
" Hitherto shalt tjiou come, but no further," it dares not en-
croach — " the pride of its waves is stayed." When we know
that God bridles the tempest, though "nature rocks beneath
his tread," and curbs the boisterous storm — he ought to be
feared — verily, he is a God before whom it is no dishonor for us
to bow ourselves in the very dust. The contemplation of the
marvelous works which he doth upon "the great and wide
sea," where he tosseth the waves to and fro, and yet keepeth
them in their ordained courses, should draw forth our devout-
est emotions, and I could almost say, inspire us with homage.
Great art thou, O Lord God ; greatly art thou to be praised ;
let the world which thou hast made, and all that therein is,
declare thy glory ! I can scarcely conceive a heart so callous
that it feels no awe, or a human mind so dull and destitute of
understanding, as fairly to view the tokens of God's omnipo-
god's barriers against man's sin. 181
tent power, and then turn aside without some sense of the
fitness of obedience. One might think the impression would
be spontaneous in every breast, and if not, only let reason do
her office, and by slower process every mind should yet be
convinced. Let your eyes behold the stars; God alone can
tell their numbers, yet he calls them all by names ; by him
they are marshaled in their spheres, and travel through the
aerial universe just as he gives them charge ; they are all his
servcmts, who with cheerful haste perform the bidding of their
Lord. You see how the stormy wind and tempest like slaves
obey his will ; and you know that the great pulse of ocean
throbs and vibrates with its ebb and flow entirely under his
control. Have these great things of God, these wondrous
works of his, no lesson to teach us ? Do they not while de-
claring his glory reveal our duty ? Our poets, both the
sacred and the uninspired, have feigned consciousness to those
inanimate agents that they might the more truthfully rep-
resent their honorable service. But if because we are ra-
tional and intelligent beings, we withhold our allegiance from
our rightful Sovereign, then our privileges are a curse, and
our glory is a shame. Alas, then the instincts of men very
often guide them to act by impulse more wisely than they
commonly do by a settled conviction. Where is the man that
will not bend the knee in time of tempest ? Where is the
man that does not acknowledge God when he hears the terri-
ble voice of his deep-toned thunder, and sees with alarm the
shafts of his lightning fly abroad, cleaving the thick darkness
of the atmosphere ? In times of plague, famine, and pesti-
lence, men are. prone to take refuge in religion — they will
make confession, like Pharaoh, when he said, " I have sinned
this time : the Lord is righteous, and I and my people are
wicked ;" but like him, when " the rain, and the hail, and the
thunders have ceased," when the plagues are removed, then
they sin yet more, and their hearts are hardened. Hence
their sin becomes exceeding sinful, since they sin against
truths which even nature itself teaches us are most just. We
might learn, even without the written oracles of Scripture,
that we ought to obey God, if our foolish hearts were not so
182 god's baeriees against man's sin.
darkened ; thus unbelief of the Almighty Creator is a crime
of the first magnitude. If it were a petty sovereign against
whom ye rebelled, it might be pardonable ; if he were a man
like yourselves, ye might expect that your faults would easily
find forgiveness ; but since he is the God who reigns alone,
where clouds and darkness are round about him, the God to
whom all nature is obedient, and whose high behests are
obeyed both in heaven and in hell, it becomes a crime, the
terrible character of which words can not portray, that you
should ever sin against a God so marvelously great. The
greatness of God enhances the greatness of our sin. I believe
this is one lesson which the prophet intended to teach us by
the text. He asks us in the name of God, or rather, God
asks us through him — "Fear ye not me ? saith the Lord : will
ye not tremble at my presence ?"
But while it is a lesson, I do not think it is the lesson of the
text. There is something else which we are to learn from it.
God here contrasts the obedience of the strong, the mighty,
the untamed sea, with the rebellious character of his owa.
people. " The sea," saith he, *' obeys me ; it never breaks its
boundary ; it never leapeth from its channel ; it obeys me in
all its movements. But man, poor puny man, the little crea-
ture whom I could crush as the moth, will not be obedient to
me. The sea obeys me from shore to shore, without reluc-
tance, and its ebbing floods, as they retire from its bed, each
of them says to me, in the voices of the pebbles, ' O Lord,
we are obedient to thee, for thou art our master.' But my
people," says God, " are a revolting and a rebeUious people ;
they go astray from me." And is it not, my brethren, a mar-
velous thing, that the whole earth is obedient to God, save
man ? Even the mighty leviathan, who maketh the deep to
be hoary, sinneth not against God, but his course is ordered
according to his Almighty Master's decree. Stars, those won-""
drous masses of light, are easily directed by the very wish of
God ; clouds, though they seem erratic in their movement^
have God for their pilot ; "he maketh the clouds his chariot;"
and the winds, though they seem restive beyond control, yet
do they blow, or cease to blow just as God willeth. In hea-
god's barriees against man's sin. 183
ven, on earth, even in the lower regions, I had almost said,
we could scarcely find such a disobedience as that which is
practiced by man ; at least, in heaven, there is a cheerful
obedience ; and in hell there is constrained submission to God,
while on earth man makes the base exception, he is continually
revolting and rebelling against his Maker.
Still there is another thought in the text, and this I shall
endeavor to dilate upon. Let us read it again. "Fear ye
not me ? saith the Lord : will ye not tremble at my presence?"
— now here is the pith of the matter — " which have placed
the sand for the bound of the sea by a perpetual decree, that
it can not pass it : and though the waves thereof toss them-
selves, yet can they not prevail ; though they roar, yet can
they not pass over it ? But this people hath a revolting and
a rebellious heart; they are revolted and gone." "The sea,"
says God, " is not only obedient, but it is rendered obedient
by the restraint merely of sand." It is not the rock of
adamant that restrains the sea one half so easily as just that
little belt of sand and shingle which preserves the dry land
from the inundations of the ocean. "The sea obeys me. and
has for its only check the sand ; and yet," says he, " ray
people, though they have restraints the strongest that reason
could imagine, are a revolting and a rebellious people, and
scarcely can my commands, my promises, my love, my judg-
ment, my providence or my word restrain them from sin."
That is the point we shall dwell upon this morning. The
sea is easily restrained by a belt of sand ; but we, notwith-
standing all the restraints of God^ are a people bent on revolt-
ing from him.
The doctrine of the text seems to me to be this — that with-
out supernatural means God can make all creatures obedient
save *raan ; but man is so disobedient in his heart, that only
some supernatural agency can make him obedient to God,
while the simple agency of sand can restrain the sea, withoit
any stupendous efibrt of divine power more than he ordinarily
puts out in nature : he can not thus make man obedient to
his will.
Now, my brethren, let us look back into history and see if
184 god's barriers against man's sin.
it has not been so. What has been a greater problem, if we
may so speak concerning the divine mind, than that of restrain-
ing men from sin ? How many restraints God has put upon
man ! Adam is in the garden,. pure and holy ; he has restraints
that one would think strong enough to prevent his commit-
ting a sin so contemptible and apparently unprofitable as that
by which he fell. He is to have the whole garden in per-
petuity, if he will not eat of that tree of life ; his God will
walk with him, and make him his friend ; moreover, in the cool
of the day he shall hold converse with angels, and v\i,ith the
Lord, the Master of angels ; and yet he dares eat of that holy
fruit which God had set forth not to be touched by man.
Then he must die. One would think it was enough to promise
reward for obedience, and punishment for sin ; but no, the
check fails. Man, left to his own free will, touches the fruit,
and he falls. Man can not be restrained, even in his purity, so
easily as the mighty sea. Since that time, mark what God has
done by way of restraint. The world has become corrupt ; it
is altogether covered with iniquity. Forth comes a prophet.
Enoch prophesies of the coming of the Lord, declaring that
he sees him coming with ten thousand of his saints to judge
the world. That world goes on, as profane and unheeding as
before. Another prophet is raised up, and cries, " Yet a little
while, and this earth shall be drowned in a flood of water."
Do men cease from sin ? No ; profligacy, crime, iniquities of
the vilest class, are as prevalent as before. Man rushes on to
his destruction ; the deluge comes and destroys all but a fa-
vored few. The new family goes out to people the earth : will
not the world now be clean and holy? Wait a little, and ye
shall see. One of these men will do a deed which shall render
him a curse for ever, an^ his son Canaan shall in after years
inherit his father's curse. Kot long after that you see Sodom
and Gomorrah devoured with fire which God rains out of hea-
ven. But what of this ? What though in later years Pharaoh
and his chariots are drowned in the Red sea? What though
Sennacherib and his hosts perish at midnight by the blast of
an archangel ? What though the world reels to and fro, and
staggers like a drunken man, being drunken with the* wine of
god's barriees against man's sin. 185
God's wrath? "What though the earth be scarred and burned
by war? What though it be deluged with floods? "What
though it be oppressed with famines, pestilences, and diseases ?
She still goes on in the same manner ; at this hour the world
is a sinful, rebellious world, and until God shall work a work
in our day, such as we shall scarce believe, though a man tell
it to us, the world shall never be pure and holy. The sea is
restrained by sand ; we admire the beautiful poetic fact ; but
being naturally more ungovernable than the storm and more
impetuous than the ocean, is not to be tamed ; he will not bend
his neck to the Lord, nor will he be obedient to the God of
the whole earth.
" But what of this fact ?" — you say — " we know it is true ;
we do not doubt it." Stay awhile ; I am now coming to deal
with your hearts and consciences ; and may the Holy Spirit
help me in doing so ! I shall divide, as God would divide
them — saints and sinners.
First of all, ye saints^ I have a word to say to you. I want
you to look at this as a doctrine not more evident in the his-
tory of mankind at large, than abundantly verified in your own
case. Come, now, I want to ask of you this morning, whether
it can not be said of you truly — " The sea is bound by sand ;
but I am one of those people who are bent on revolting from
God, neither can any of his restraints keep me from sin." Let
us review, for a few moments, the various restraints which God
has put upon his people to keep them from sins which, never-
theless, are altogether ineffectual, without the accompanying
power of irresistible grace.
First, then, remember there is a restraint of gratitude which,
to the lowly, regenerated heart, must necessarily form a very
strong motive to obedience. I can conceive of notliing that
ought so much to prompt me to obedience as the thought that
I owe so much to God. O heir of heaven ! thou canst look
back to eternity and see thy name in life's fiir book set down ;
thou canst sing of electing love ; thou dost believe that a
covenant was made with Christ in thy behalf, and that thy
salvation was made secure in that moment when the hands of
the eternal Son grasped the stylus and signed his name as
186 god's barriees against man's sin.
the representative of all the elect. Thou believest that on
Calvary thy sins were all atoned for; thou hast in thy soul the
conviction that thy sins, past, present and to come, were all
numbered on the scape-goat's head of old, and carried aw^ay
for ever ; thou believest that neither death nor hell can ever
divide thee from thy Saviour's breast; thou knowest that
there is laid up for thee a crown of life which fadeth not
away, and thine expectant soul anticipates that with branches
of palms in thine hands, with crowns of gold on thine head,
and streets of gold beneath thy feet, thou shalt be happy for
ever. Thou believest thyself to be one of the favored of Hea-
ven, a special object of divine solicitation ; thou thinkest that
all things work together for thy good, yea, thou art persuaded
that every thing in providence has a special regard to thee, and
to thy favored brethren. I ask thee, O saint, is not this a
bond strong enough to keep thee from sin ? If it were not
for the desperate unstableness of thy heart, wouldst thou not
be restrained from sin by this? Is not thy sin exceeding
sinful, because it is sin against electing love, against redeem-
ing peace, against all-surpassing mercy, against matchless affec-
tion, against shoreless grace, against spotless love ? Ah ! sin
has reached its climax, when it dures to sin against such love
as this. O Christian ! thine affection to thy Lord and Master
should restrain thee from iniquity. And is it not a fearful
proof of the terrible character of thine heart — of thine heart
even now, for still thou hast evil remaining in it — that all the
ties of gratitude are still incapable of keeping thee from un-
holiness. The sins of yesterday rise to thy memory now. Oh !
look back on them. Do they not tell thee that thou dost sin
most ungratefully ? O saint ! didst thou not yesterday use
thy Master's name in vain, and not thy Master's only, but thy
Father's name? Hadst thou not yesterday an unbeheving
heart ? Wast thou. not petulant when girded with fan^ors that
ought to make a living man unwilling to complain ? Wast
thou not, when God hath forgiven thee ten thousand talents,
angry with thy neighbor, who owed thee a hundred pence ?
Ah Christian ! thou art not yet free from sin, nor wilt thou be,
until thou hast washed thy gai-ments in death's black stream,
god's barriers against man's sin. 18*7
and then thou shalt be holy, as holy as the glorified and pure,
and spotless, even as the angels around the throne, but not till
then. I ask thee, O saint, viewing thy sins as sins against love
and mercy, against covenant promises, covenant oaths, cove-
nant engagements, ay, and covenant fulfillments, is not thy sin
a desperate thing, and art not thou thyself a rebellious and re-
volting being, seeing that thou canst not be restrained by such
a bari'ier of adamant as thy soul acknowledges ?
Next notice that the saint has not only this barrier against
sin, but many others. He has the whole of God's Word given
him by way of warning ; its pages he is accustomed to read ;
he reads there, that if he break the statutes and keep not the
commandments of the Lord, his Father will visit his transgres-
sions with a rod, and his iniquity with stripes. He has before
him in God's Word abundant examples. He finds a David
going with broken bones to his grave after his sin ; he finds a
Samson shorn of his locks, and with his eyes put out ; he sees
proof upon proof that sin will find a man out ; that the back-
slider in heart shall be filled with his own ways. Abundant
warnings there are for the child of God, not of saints who have
perished, for we have none such on record in Scripture, and
none ever shall finally perish — but we have many warnings of
great and grievous damages sustained by God's own children
when they have sailed out of their proper course. And yet,
O Christian, against all w^arning and against all precept thou
darest to sin. Oh ! art thou not a rebellious creature, and
mayest thou not this morning humble thyself at the thought
of the greatness of thine iniquity.
Again : the saint sins against his own experience. When
he looks back upon his past Ufe he finds that sin has always
been a loss to him ; he has never found any profit, but has al-
ways lost by it. He remembers such and such a transgression ;
it appeared sweet to him at the time, but oh ! it made his
Master withdraw his presence and hide his face. The saint
can look back on the time when sin hung like a mill-stone
round his neck, and he felt the terrible flame of remorse burn-
ing in his soul, and knew how evil a thing and bitter it is to
siu against God. And yet the saint sins. Now, if the uncon-
4
188 GOD'S BAERIERS AGAINST MAN'S SIN.
verted man sins, he does not sin against his own experience,
for he has not had that true, heartfelt experience that renders
sin exceeding sinful. But every time thou sin nest, O gray-
headed saint, thou sinnest with a vengeance, for thou hast had
all through thy life so much proof of what sin has been to thee.
Thou hast not been deceived about it, for thou hast felt its bit-
terness in thy bowels: and when thou sippest the accursed
draught thou art infatuated indeed, because thou sinnest
against experience. Ay, and the youngest of the saints, have
you not been made to taste the bitterness of sin ? I know
you have, if you are saints ! and will you go and^dip your
fingers in the nauseous cup ? Will you put the poisoned gob-
let to your lips again ? Yes, you will ; but because you do so
in the teeth of your experience, it ought to make you weep,
that you should be such desperate rebels against such a loving
God, who has put not merely a barrier of sand, but a barrier
of tried steel to keep in your lusts, and yet they will break
forth; verily ye are a rebellious and revolting people.
Then again, God guards all his children with providence, in
order to keep them from sin. I could tell you, even from the
little experience I have had of spiritual things, many cases in
which I feel I have been kept from sin by divine Providence.
There have been seasons when the strong hand of sin has ap-
peared for a while to get the mastery over us, and we have
been dragged along by some strong inherent lust, whioh we
were prone to practice before our regeneracy. We were in-
toxicated with the lust, we remember how pleasurable it was
to us in the days of our iniquity, how we reveled in it, till we
were on a sudden dragged to the very edge of the precipice,
and we looked down ; our brain reeled, we could not stand ;
and do we not remember how, just then, some striking provi-
dence came in our way, and saved us, or else we should have
been excommunicated from the church -for violating the rules
of propriety ? Ah ! strange things happen to some of us ;
strange things have happened to some of you. It was onlj^a
providence which on some sad and solemn occasion, to which
you never look back without regret, saved you from sin
which would have been a scab on your character. Bless God
GOD'S BARRIERS AGAINST MAN'S SIN. 189
for that ! But remember, notwithstanding the girdlings of his
providence, how many times you have offended ; and let the
frequency of your sin remind you that you must indeed be a
rebellious creature. Though he has afflicted you, you have
sinned ; though he has given you chastisement, you have
sinned ; though he has put you in the furnace, yet the dross
has not departed from you. Oh! how corrupt your hearts
are, and how prone you are still to wander, notwithstanding
all the baiTiers God has given you to encompass you !
Yet, once more let me remind you, beloved, that the ordi*
nances of God's house are all intended to be checks to sin.
He girds us by the worship of the sanctuary ; he girds us by
the remembrance of our holy baptisQi ; and all else that is con-
nected with Christianity is intended to check us from sin. And
great are the effects which these produce ; yet all are insuffi-
cient, without the preserving grace of God, given to us day by
day. Let us think, beloved, too, that God has given to us a
tender conscience, more tender than the conscience of worldly
men, because he has given us living consciences, whereas theirs
are often seared and dead. And yet, against this living con-
science, against the warnings of the Spirit, against precept,
against promise, against experience, against the honor of God,
and against the gratitude they owe him, the saints of God
have dared to sin, and they must confess before him that they
are rebelhous, and have revolted from him. Bow down your
heads with shame while ye consider your ways, and then lift
up your hearts. Christians, in adoring love, that he has kept
you when your feet were making haste to hell, where you
would have gone, but for his preserving grace. Shall not this
long-suffering of your God, this tender compassion, be your
theme every day,
'* While life, and thought, and being last,
Or immortality endures?"
Will you not pray that God should not cast you away, nor
take his Holy Spirit from you, though you are a rebellious
creature, and though you have revolted against him ?
This is for the saints ; and now may the Spirit help me,
190 god's BAEEIEES against man's SINw
wliile I strive to apply it to sinners ! Sinner, I have solemn
things to say to thee this morning; lend me for a few minutes
thy very closest attention ; I will speak to thee as though this
were the last message I should ever deliver in thine ear. I have
asked my God, that I may so speak to thee, O sinner, that if
I win not thy heart I may at least be free from thy blood ;
and that if I am not able to convince thee of thy sin, I may
at any rate make thee without excuse in that day " when God
shall judge the secrets of men by Jesus Christ according to
my gospel." Come then, sinner ; in the first place I bid thee
consider thy guilt. Thou hast heard what I have said. The
mighty ocean is kept in obedience by God, and restrained
within its channel by simple sand ; and thou, a pitiful worm,
the creature of a day, the ephemera of an hour, thou art a
rebel against God. The sea obeys him ; thou dost not. Con-
sider, I beseech thee, how many restraints God has put on
thee; he has not checked thy lusts with sand but with beet-
ling clifis ; and yet thou hast burst through every bound in
the violence of thy transgressions. Perhaps he has checked
thy soul by the remembrance of thy guilt. Thou hast this
morning felt thyself a despiser of God ; or if not a despiser,
thou art a mere hearer, and hast no part or lot in this matter.
Dost thou not remember thy sins in the face of thy mother's
counsels and thy father's strong admonitions ? Do they never
check thee ? Dost thou never think thou seest a mother's tears
coming after thee ? Hast thou never heard a father's prayers
for thee ? When thou hast been spending thy nights in dis-
sipation, and hast gone home late to thy bed, hast thou never
thought thou hast seen thy father's spirit at thy bed side, off-
ering one more prayer for an Absalom, his son, or for an Ish-
raael, his rebellious child ? Consider what thou hast learned,
child ! Baptized with a mother's tears, almost immersed in
them ; thou wast early taught to know something of God ;
when thou didst go from thy mother's knees, thou wentest to
those of a pious teacher; thou w^ast trained in a Sabbath
School, or at any rate thou wast taught to read the Bible.
Thou knowest the threatenings of God ; it is no new tale to
thee, when I warn thee that sinners must be condemned ; it
god's barriers against man's sin. 191
is no new story when I tell thee that saints shall wear the
starry crown; thou kuowest all that. Consider, then, how
great is thy guilt ; thou hast sinned against light and knowl-
edge ; thou art not the Hottentot sinner, who sins in dark-
ness, but thou art a sinner before high heaven, in the full light
of day; thou hast not sinned ignorantly, thou hast done it
when thou knewest better ; and when thou comest to be lost,
thou shalt have an additional doom, because thou didst know
thy duty, but thou didst it not. I charge that home upon thee,
I charge it solemnly upon thy conscience ; is it true, or is it
not? Some of you have had other things. Do n't you remem-
ber, some little time ago, when sickness was rife, you were
stretched on your bed ? One night you will never forget ;
sickness had got strong hold of you, and the strong man
bowed himself. Do you not remember what a sight you had
then of the regions of the damned ; not with your eyes, but
with your conscience ? You thought you heard their shrieks ;
you thought you would be amongst them yourself soon. Me-
thuiks I see you ; you turned your face to the wall, and you
cried, " O God, if thou wilt save my life, I will give myself
to thee !" Perhaps it was an accident ; thou didst fear that
death was very near ; the terrors of death laid hold of thee,
and thou didst cry, " Oh ! God, let me but reach home in
safety, and my bended knees and my tears pouring in torrents
shall prove that I am sincere in the vow I make." But didst
thou perform that vow ? Nay, thou hast sinned against God ;
thy broken vows have gone before thee to judgment. Dost
thou think it a little thing to make a promise to thy fellow-
creature and break it ? It may be so in thine estimation, but
not so in that of honest men. But dost thou think it a little
thing to promise to thy Maker, and to break thy promise ?
There is no light penalty for sinning against the Almighty
God ; it will cost thee thy soul, man, and thy soul's blood
for ever, if thou gocst on in this fashion. Vow and pay, or if
thou payest not, vow not ; for God shall visit those vows upon
thee, in tlie day when he maketh inquisition for blood, and
destroyeth thy soul. Thou hast been guarded thus ; remem-
ber that thou bast had extraordinary deliverances, the disease
192 god's barriers against man's sin.
did not kill thee ; thy broken bones were healed ; thou didst
not die ; when the jaws of death were uplifted, they did not
close upon thee : here thou art still. Thy life is spared.
Oh ! my dear hearers, some of you are the worst ; you have
regularly sat in these pews — God is my witness, how earnestly
I have longed for you all in the bowels of Christ. I have not
shunned to declare the whole counsel of God to you. If I
had been a time-server, and kept back part of the truth, much
more honor would I have received from men than I have re-
ceived ; but I have cleared my conscience, I trust, from your
blood. How many times have I seen men and women cry,
the hot tears falling down their cheeks in quick succession !
and expected that I should have seen a change in some of
your lives. But how many of you there are, who have gone
on sinning against warnings, which I am sure, though they
may have been excelled in eloquence, have never been exceed-
ed in heartiness ! Do you think it a httle thing to sin against
God's ambassador ? It is no little sin : every time we sin
against the warnings we have received, we sin so much the
more heinously. But there are some — I had hoped for you, but
ye have gone back to the ways of perdition ; I have cried,
"Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" But I have been
obliged to go to my Master with that exclamation, "Who
hath believed our report? and to whom is the arm of the
Lord revealed ?" Woe unto thee, Bethsaida ; it were better
for thee if thou hadst been Tyre and Sidon than that thou
shouldst have been left in the midst of privileges, if thou
shouldst perish at last ! Woe unto you that listen not unto
the voice of the minister here! If ye perish beneath our
warnings, ye shall perish in a horrible manner ! Woe unto
thee, Capernaum ! thou art exalted unto heaven, but thou
shalt be cast down to hell. Woe unto thee, young woman !
thou hast had a pious mother, and thou hast had many warn-
ings. Woe unto thee, young man ! thou hast been a profli-
gate youth ! thou hast been brought to this house of prayer
from thy infancy, and thou art sitting there even now ; often
does thy conscience prick thee ; often thy heart has told thee
that thou art wrong ; and yet thou art still unchanged ! Woe
god's BARRIEES against atAN'S SIN. 193
unto thee ! Woe unto thee I And yet will I cry unto my
God, that he would avert that woe and pardon thee ; that he
would not let thee die, but bring thee unto himself, lest now
ye perish in your sins. Ye sinners ! God has a controversy
with you ; he tames the sea, but ye will not be tamed ; noth-
ing but his marvelous grace exerted in you will ever check
you in your lusts. You have sinned against warnings and
reproofs, against providences, mercies, and judgments, and
still ye sin.
Oh ! my hearers, when you sin, you do not sin so cheaply as
others ; for when you sin, you sin in the very teeth of hell.
There is not a man or woman in this place, I am sure, who,
when he or she sins, does not know that hell is the inevitable
consequence ! Sirs, ye do not sin in the dark. When God
shall give you the wages of your iniquity, you shall not be
able to say, " O God, I did not know this would be the pay
for my labor." When thou didst sow tares, thou couldst not
expect that thou shouldst reap wheat ; thou knowest " that
they who sow carnal things, shall reap carnal things ;" thou
art sowing to the flesh, but not with the hope that thou wilt
reap salvation ; for thou knowest that " he who soweth to the
flesh, shall of the flesh reap corruption." Sinnei-, it is a dread-
ful thing to sin, when God puts hell before thee ! What ! sin
when he has given out his threatening ? Sin ! while Sinai is
thundering, while all hell is blazing ? Ay, that is to sin in-
deed. But how many of you, my dear hearers, have sinned
like this ? I would to God, that he would turn this house into
a Bochim, that you might weep over your guilt. It is the
hardest thing in the world to make men believe their guilt. If
we could once get them to do that, we should find that Christ
would reveal to them his salvation. I can not Avith my poor
voice and my weak utterance, even bring you to think that it
is Jesus Christ in the ministry of his Spirit who can give you
a true and real sense of your sin. Hath he done so ? Hath
he blessed my words to any of you ? Do any of you feel
your sins ? Do any of you know that you are rebellious ? Do
you say, from this time forth you will mend your ways ? Sirs,
let me tell you, you can not do that. Are you better than the
194 god's baeriers agatnst man's sin.
mightiest of men ? The best of men are but men at the best,
and they are convinced that they can not tame their own tur-
bulent passions, God saith that the sea can be tamed with
sand ; but the heart of man can not be restrained, it is still
revolting. Dost thou think thou canst do that, which God
saith is impossible ? Dost thou suppose thyself stronger than
God Almighty ? What ! canst thou change thine own heart
when God declares that we must be born again from above,
or else we can not see the kingdom of heaven ? Others have
tried to do it, but they can not. I beseech thee, do not try
to do it with thine own strength. I am glad thou knowest
thy guilt ; but O do not increase that guilt, by seeking to wash
it out in the foul stream of thine own resolutions. Go and tell
God that thou knowest thy sin, and confess it before him, and
ask him to create in thee a clean heart, and renew in thee a
right spirit. Tell him thou knowest that thou art rebellious,
and thou art sure that thou always wilt be, unless he change
thy heart ; and I beseech thee, rest not satisfied until thou hast
a new heart. My hearer, be not content with baptism ; be
not content with the Lord's Supper ; be not content with shut-
ting up your shop on Sunday ; be not content with leaving
off drunkenness ; be not content with giving up swearing.
Remember, you may do all that, and be damned. It is a
new heart and a right spirit you want ; begin with that, and
when you have that, all the rest will come right. Bethink
thee, my hearer ; thou mayest varnish and gild thyself, but
thou canst never change thyself. Thou mayest moralize, but
thou canst never spiritualize thy heart. But just bethink thee.
Thou art this morning lost ; and just think of this — thou canst
do nothing whatever to save thyself Let that thought rise
in thy soul, and lay thee very low ; and when thou goest to
God, cry, " O Lord, do what I can not do ; save me, O my
God, for thy mercy's sake."
My dear hearers, have I spoken harshly to you, or will ye
rather take it in love ? Ye who have sinned thus terribly
against God, do ye feel it ? Well, I have no grace to offer to
thee, I have no Christ to offer to thee, but I have a Christ to
preach to thee. Oh 1 what shall I say ? This : — you are a
god's barriers against man's sin. 195
sinner. " It is a faithful snying, and worthy of all acceptation,
that ChnH Jesus came into the world to save sinners, even the
chieC Art thou a sinner ? Then he came to save thee. Oh !
joyful sound, I am ready to leap in the pulpit for very joy, to
h:ive this to preach to thee. I can clap my hands with ecsta?;y
of heart, that I am allowed again to tell thee — " It is a faithful
saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came
into the world to save sinnei-s." Let me tell you that when
he came into this world he was nailed to the cross, and that
there he expired in desperate griefs and agony ; and there he
shrieked, " My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me ?"
There the blood ran from his hands and feet, and because he
suffered he is able to forgive. Sinner, dost thou believe that ?
Thou art black ; dost thou believe, in the face of thy black-
ness, that Christ's blood can make thee white? What sayest
thou, sinner? God has convinced thee of thy sin ; art thou
willing to be saved in God's way this morning ? If thou art
willing, thou shalt be saved. It is written — "Whosoever
will, let him come." Art thou thirsty this morning ? come
hither and drink. Art thou hungry ? come and eat. Art
thou dying ? come and live. My Master bids me tell you, all
you who feel your sins, that you are forgiven ; al^ you who
know your transgressions, he bids me tell you this :-^ I, even
I, am he that blotteth out your transgressions, for rajr name's
sake." Hast thou been an adulterer, hast thou been rf whore-
monger, a thief, a drunkard, a Sabbath-breaker, a swearer ? I
find no exception in this proclamation : — " Whosoever will,
let him come." I find no exception in this : — " Him that com-
eth I will in no wise cast out." Dost thou know thy guilt ?
then I do not ask thee what thy guilt is. Tliough thou wert
the vilest creature, again I tell thee, if thou knowest thy
guilt, Christ will forgive thee. Believe it, and thou art saved.
And now will ye go away and forget all this ? Some of you
Lave wept this morning. No wonder ; the wonder is that we
do not all weep until we find ourselves saved ! You will go
away to-murrow to your farms and to your merchandise, to
your shops, and to your offices ; and the impression that may
have been produced on you this Sabbath morning will pass
196 god's baeriees against man's sin.
away like the morning cloud. My hearers, I would not weep,
though you should call me all the names you can think of, but
I will weep because you will not weep for yourselves. Sin-
ners, why will ye be damned ? Is it a pleasant thing to revolt
in the flames of hell ? Sirs, what profit is there in your death ?
What ! is it an honorable thing to rebel against God ? Is it
an honor to stand and be the scorn of God's universe ? Dost
thou say thou shalt not die ; yet thou wilt put it off a little
while ? Sinner, thou wilt never have a more convenient sea-
son ; if to-day is inconvenient, to-morrow will be more so.
Put it off to-day, wipe away the tears from your eyes, and the
day may come when you would give a million worlds for a
tear, but you shall not be able to get one. Many a man has
had a soft heart ; it has passed away, and in after years he has
said, *' Oh, that I could but shed a tear !" O God ! make thy
word like a hammer this morning, that it may break the rocky
heart in pieces ! Ye who know your sins, as God's ambassa-
dor, I beseech you, " be ye reconciled unto God." " Kiss the
Son, lest he be angry, and ye perish from the way, when his
wrath is kindled but a little." Remember, once lost, ye are
lost for ever. But if ye are once saved, ye are certainly saved
for ever. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt
be saved," said Paul of old ; Jesus himself hath said," He that
believeth and is baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth
not shaH be damned." I will not finish with a curse. " He
that believeth shall be saved," God give you all an interest
in that eternal blessing, for the Lord Jesus' sake 1
SERMON XII.
COMFORT PROCLAIMED.
" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your Grod." — Isaiah, xL 1.
What a sweet title: "My people!" What a cheering
revelation : " Your God !" How much of meaning is couched
in those two words, " My people." Here is speciality. The
whole world is God's; the heaven, even the heaven of heavens
are the Lord's, and he reignetl\ among the children of men.
But he saith of a certain number, " My people." Of those
whom he hath chosen, whom he hath purchased to himself, he
saith what he saith not of others. While nations and kin-
dreds are passed by as being simply nations, he says of them^
" ]^Iy people." In this word there is the idea, of proprietor-
ship to teach us that we are the property of God. In some
special manner the "Lord's portion is his j^eople ; Jacob is the
lot of his inheritance." All the nations upon earth are his ;
he taketh up the isles as a very little thing ; the whole world
is in his power ; yet are his people, his chosen, favored people,
more especially his possession ; for he has done more for them
than others ; he has bought them with his blood ; he has
brought them nigh to himself; he has set his great heart upon
them ; he has loved them with an everlnsliiig love, a love
which many waters can not quench, and which the revolutions
of time shall never suffice in the least degree to diminish.
*' My people !" O my hearers, can you by faith put your-
selves in that number who believe that God says of them,
" My people ?" Can you look up to heaven to-niglit, and say,
" My Lord, and my God : mine by that sweet relationship
which entitles me to call thee Father ; mine by that hallowed
fellowship which I delight to hold with thee when thou art
pleased to manifest thyself unto me as thou dost not unto the
198 COMTOET PROCLAIMED.
world ? Canst thou, beloved, put thy hand into thine heart
and find there the indentures of thy salvation ? Canst thou
read thy title writ in j^recious blood ? Canst thou by humble
faith lay hold of Jesus' garments, and say, " My Christ ?" If
thou canst,*'then God saith of thee, " My people ;" for if God
be your God, and Christ your Christ, the Lord has a special,
peculiar favor to you ; you are the object of his choice, and
you shall be accepted, at last, in his beloved Son. How careful
God is of his people ; those of whom he says, " My people ;"
mark, how anxious he is concerning them, not only for their
life, but for their comfort. He does not say, " Strengthen ye,
strengthen ye my people ;" he does not say to the angel,
"Protect my people ;" he does not say to the heavens, "Drop
down manna to feed ray people ;" — all that and more also his
tender regard secures to them; but on this occasior^to show
us that he is not only regardful of our interests, but also of
our superfluities, he says, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people."
He would not only have us his living people, his preserved
people, but he would have us be his happy people too. He
likes his people to be fed, but what is more, he likes to give
them "wines on the lees well refined," to make glad their
hearts. He will not only give them bread, but he will give
them honey too ; he will not simply give them milk, but he
will give them wine and milk, and all the sweet things which
their hearts can desire. " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ;"
it is the Father's yearning heart, careful even for the little
things of his people. " Comfort ye, comfort ye," — that one
with a tearful eye ; " Comfort ye, comfort ye," — yon child of
mine with an aching heart ; " Comfort ye," — that poor be-
moaning one ; " Comfort ye, comfort ye — my people, saith
your God."
jNTow to-night we shall notice the parties to whom the com-
mand is addressed / secondly, the reason for it y and thirdly,
the means for carrying it out.
I. First, then, to whom is this command addressed ? You
know, beloved, the Holy Spirit is the great Comforter, and he
it is who alone can solace the saints if their hearts be really
cheered j but he uses instruments to relieve his children in
COMFORT PROCLAIMED. 199
their distress and to lift up their hearts from desperation. To
whom, then, is this command addressed ? I believe it is ad-
dressed to angels and to men.
To angels^ first of all, I believe this command is addressed :
" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." You often talk about
the insinuations of the devil ; I frequently hear you bemoaning
yourselves because you have been attacked by Apollyon, and
have had a hard struggle with Beelzebub ; you have found it
hard to resist his desperate thrusts which ho made against you ;
and you are always talking about him. Allow me to remind
you that there is another side of that question, for if evil
spirits assault us, doubtless good spirits guard us ; and if Satan
can cast us down, doubtless it is true God giveth his angels
charge over us, to keep us in all our ways, and they shall bear
us up in their hands lest at any time we dash our feet against
a stone. It is my firm belief that angels are often employed
by God to throw into the hearts of his people comforting
thoughts. There are many sweet thoughts w^hich we have by
the way, when we sit down, and when we rise up, which we
scarcely dare attribute immediately to the Holy Ghost, but
which are still beautiful and calm, lovely, and fair, and consol-
ing; and we attribute them to the ministry of angels. Angels
came and ministered unto Jesus, and I doubt not that they
minister unto us. Few of us have enough belief in the exist-
ence of spirits. I like that saying of Milton's, " MilHons of
spiritual creatures walk this earth both when we sleep and
when we wake." And if our minds were opened, if our ears
were attentive, we might hold fellowship with spirits that flit
through the air at every moment. Around the death-bed of
saints angels hover ; by the side of every struggling warrior
for Christ the angels stand. In the day of battle we hear in
the air the neighing of their steeds. Hark ! how softly do
they ride to help the elect of God, while in the stern conflict
for the right and for the truth, when they would have been
Cast down, some angel whispers, " Courage, brother, courage ;
I would I could stand by thy side, shoulder to shoulder, and
foot to foot, to fight the battle, but I must not ; it is left for
men. Courage, then, brother, because angels watch over thee I"
200 COMFOET PEOCLAIMED.
It is a good wish of ours, when we say at eventide, " Peace
be to thee, beloved ! good angels guard thee ! may they spread
their wrings o'er thee and stand around thy bed !" But it is
more than a wish, it is a reality. Do ye not know it is written,
" The angel of the Lord encampeth around them that fear
him ?" " Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to
minister unto them who are heirs of salvation ?" This com-
mand, then, comes to angels: "Comfort ye, comfort ye my
people." Full oft the bright-winged seraph flaps his wings to
earth, to comfort some desponding heart. Full oft the cherub,
ceasing for a moment his mighty song to go on errands of
love, descends, as Gabriel did of old, to cheer the heart of
many a struggling man, and to stand by the side of those who
are in conflict for God and for his truth. Ye angels, ye bright
spirits, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people."
But on earth, this is more especially addressed to the Lord's
ministers. He calls his ministers angels of the churches,
albeit they should be a great deal more like angels than they
are. Ministers are bound to comfort God's people. I ani
sure, however, they can not do it, unless they preach the good
old doctrines of truth. Except they preach grace and gracious
doctrine, I can not see how they are to console the minds of
the Lord's family. Were I to adopt a lax theology which
teaches that God's children may fall away, that although re-
deemed they may yet be lost, that they may be efiectually
called, and yet slide back to perdition — I want to know how I
could carry out this command ? I shoyld say, " Brethren,
Go'd has told me to comfort you ; that is what I have to
preach ; you must get what comfort you can out of it, for I
really can not find much." I have often marveled how the
Arminian can comfort himself, wherewith he can light a fire to
w^arm his own heart ! What doctrine hath he ? He believes
he is a child of God to-day, and he is taught to believe he is
a child of the devil to-morrow. Pie is now, he says, in the
covenant, but then that covenant is such an uncertain thing
that it may at any time be broken down, and he may die be-
neath its ruins ; he knows himself to be redeemed by the
blood of Christ, yet he is taught that it will not be sufiicient
COMFORT PKOCLAIMED. 201
without the concurrence of some good thoughts, good ac-
tions, or certainly some good grace, some faith ol his own.
He is led to believe that his standing depends upon his own
keeping near to God, instead of remembering that his keeping
near to God must be by a sweet attraction that proceeds from
God himself. Whence then comfort is to be procured I can
not tell. Happy I am I have no such gospel as that to pi-each.
Let me preach the old gospel of Chrysostom, the old gospel
of Augustine, the old gospel of Athanasius ; and above all the
old gospel of Jesus Christ, the originator of it ; for there I can
find something to comfort the child of God, " Comfort ye, com-
fort ye my people." It is our duty to reprove, to exhort, to invite,
but it is equally our duty to console. The minister should ask
of God the Spirit, that he may be filled with his influence as
a comforter; that when he ascends his pulpit on the Sabbath
morning, his poor hard-working people, who have been toiling,
fretting with care and anxiety all the week, may say, " Here
comes our minister ; he is sure to have his mouth filled with
good things ; as soon as he opens his lips he will utter some
great and glorious promise from God's Word. He has little
to say himself, but he will be sure to tell us some good old truths
with some fresh unction, and w^e shall go away refreshed."
Oh ! ye sons of toil, some of you understand this. With
weary feet ye come to God's house ; but oh ! how gladly do
ye sing there, and how sweetly does your singing harmonize
with your hearts ! and when you have heard the Word you
go away and say, " Would God it were Sunday all the week I
Oh ! that I might sit and ever hear the words of God ! Oh I
that I might sit and ever drink in such comforts, so should I
be satisfied as with marrow and fatness !" But sometimes you
come up, and there is a flogging for you just when there needs
to be consolation ; or you get some dry, hard metaphysical
subject that has not any nourishment for your souls in it, and
you go away half starved. You hear some fine discourse with
rounded periods, and people say, " Oh ! such an oration ! never
was English so beautifully spoken by Hall or Chalmers. How
admirably it was delivered !" But alas I alas ! what of the
dbh, the porcelain, the knife, the plate, th^ splendid damask
0*
202 COMFOET PROCLAIMED.
cloth, the vase of flowers — where is the footl ? There is none
there. You have got the garnishings and you ought to be
thankful, and hold your ministers in esteem, even if they with-
hold from you your necessary bread ! But the child of God
won't like that ; he says, " I am weary of such things, away
with these garnishings, give it me in plain rough Saxon if you
will, but give me the gospel! Cut it up in any fashion you
like, but do give me something to feed upon." The language
may be rough, and the style homely, but the heir of heaven
says, "There was 'comfort ye my people' in it; and that was
what I wanted. Its style, humanly speaking, may not have
exactly suited my taste, but it has fed my soul, and that will
sufiice me."
But, my friends, do not support your ministers as an excuse
for the discharge of your own duties ; many do so. They
think when they have subscribed toward the support of the
ministry, it is enough ; imagining, as our Roman Catholic
friends do, that the priest is to do every thing, and the people
nothing ; but that is very wrong. "When God said, " Com-
fort ye, comfort ye my people," he spake to all his people to
comfort one another. And who is there here that knows the
Lord and has tasted of his grace who can not comfort his
brethren ? There is my strong friend who is on the mount
feasting on dying love ; he is the subject of rhapsodies and
high excitement; his soul is like the chariot of Amminadib;
it is on fire with his Master's presence ; he is living near to
God and drinking in fullness of joy. Oh ! my brother, go and
tell out a portion to seven, and also to eight ; for thou know-
est not what sorrow there is upon the earth. When thou art
happy, remember there is sure to be some one else sad.
When thy cup runneth over, find out an empty cup to catch
the drops that overflow. When thy soul is full of joy, go, if
thou canst, and find a mourner and let him hear thy song, or
sit down by his side and tell him how glad thou art, and may
hap his poor heart may be warmed by thy sweet, cheering
words. But art thou weak ? Art thou sad thyself? Then
go to him who is the great Comforter and ask him to relieve
thy distresses, and after that go out thyself and comfort others.
COMFORT PROCLAIMED. 203
There are none so good to comfort others as those who once
were comfortless. If I were an orphan now, and needed a
helper, I would seek one who had been an orphan in his yonth
'that he might sympathize with me. Were I houseless and
poor, I would not go to the man who has rolled in wealth
from earliest youth, but I would seek out the man who, like
myself, has trodden, with bare foot, the cold pavement of the
street at midnight ; I would seek out the man who, penniless
and poor, has begged his way from town to town, and then,
by God's providence, has worked himself up; for I could be-
lieve that such an one would have a heart to sympathize with
me. Go, thou poor tried one, go, thou weather-beaten soul if
thou canst, and call to thy mate, who is just out at sea with
thee, and tell him to be of good cheer. Thou who art in the
valley of the shadow of death, sing, " Yea, though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no
evil ;" and mayhap some brother far behind thee will hear the
song, and will take heart.
" Lives of great men all remind us,
We can make our lives sublime,
And departing, leave behind us,
Foot-prints on the sands of time.
" Foot-prints that, perhaps, another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, may take heart again."
Go, and when thou hast found any good, strive to perpetuate
it by communicating it to others. When thy foot is on the
rock, show others how to put their feet there. When thou
art glad, tell others how thou wast made glad, and the same
cordial which cheered thee may cheer them likewise. " Com-
fort ye, comfort ye my people."
Now why do we not enjoy this a little more ? I believe
one reason is because we are most, of us rather too proud to
tread in our Master's footsteps. We like not to say with him,
" I am not come to be ministered unto, but to minister."
" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people" is a sublime admonition,
204 COMFORT PROCLAIMED.
but never surely inteucled for the meager sympathy of fashion — •
for a lady who can ride in her carriage, and send her card up,
when she calls to inquire for a friend who is sick ; but were
I to press home the duty, and tell her that " my people" in-
cludes the poorest of God's flock, the weakest and the mean-
est, she would think me a rude and vulgar young man, vm-
acquainted with the etiquette of genteel society. Comfort
the poor ! — why should she ? " The lower classes expect a
great deal too much of the upper, I shall not mean myself by
stooping to them." This kind of feeling many professing
Christians have ; they talk with a fine hsp, they deem it
enough to say, " Poor creature, I pity your case, I am sorry
for you !" But the heir of heaven reads, " Comfort ye, com-
fort ye my people." There is a i^oor man in the streets who
has just come begging a crust at your door, and you can see,
by what he says, that there is something of God's grace in
his heart ; then comfort him. There is another up the creak-
ing stair-case in that back alley ; you never went up there, you
might be afraid to go ; but if you hear of a child of God
there, do not shrink back. God's diamonds may be often
found amid heaps of rags and tatters, in the very outskirts of
the city, the abodes of haggard poverty ; so go after them.
Whensoever you hear of a child of God, go and find him out ;
for this command, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people," never
ought to be put aside by our pride. Why, you go to your
churches and chapels, sometimes, and sit in your pews, with-
out even a thought of speaking to your neighbors. Some
men will go to church seven years, and scarcely know the
name of the next seat-holder. Is that right? Many will sit
at the Lord's table, too, and not speak to each other. But
that is not the fashion of communion as I understand it : it is
not the fashion of the gospel either. When I was but a youth,
the smallest boy almost that ever joined the church, I remem-
ber I thought that everybody believed what he said, and when
I heard the minister say brother, I thought I must be his
brother, for I was admitted into the church. I once sat next
to a gentleman in a pew, and we received the bread and wine
together; he called me " Brother," and as I thought he meant
COMFORT PEOCLAIMED. 206
it, I afterward acted upon it. I had no friend in the town of
Cambridge, where I was ; and one day wlien walking out, I
saw tliis same gentleman, and I said to myself, " Well now, he
called me brother ; I know he is a great deal better off than I
am, but I don't care for that ; I will go and speak to him."
So I went and said, "How do you do, brother?" "I have
not the pleasure of knowing you," was his reply. I said, " I
sat next to you at the Lord's table last Sabbath day, sir, and
you called me brother when you passed the cup to me, and I
was sure you meant it." " There now," said he, " it is worth
while seeing some one who believes a little with sincerity in
these times ; come in with me." And we have been the near-
est and dearest bosom friends ever since, just because he saw
I took him at his word, that he meant what he said. But
now-a-days profession has become a pretense and a sham ;
people sit down at the church together, as though they were
brethren, the minister calls you brethren, but he won't speak
to you, or own you as such ; his people are his brethren no
doubt, but then it is in such a mysterious sense that you will
have to read some German theologian in order to comprehend
it. That person is " your very dear brother," or " your very
dear sister," but if you are in distress, go to them and see if
they will assist you. I do not believe in such a religion as
that. I would have those who profess to be brethren, believe
that, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people," applies to every
member of Christ's church, and that they all ought to carry
it out to the utmost of their abilities.
II. Secondly, What are the reasons for this command?
Why does God say " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ?"
The first reason is because God loves to see his people look
happy. The Roman Catholic supposes that God is pleased with
a man if he whips himself^ walks barefooted for many miles, and
torments his body. I am certahi if I were to see any one do
that, I should say, " Poor soul, give him a pair of shoes ; do
take that wiiip from him, I can not bear to see him so." And
as I believe that God is infinitely more benevolent than I am,
I can not suppose that he would take pleasure in seeing blood
ran down a man's back, or blisters rising on his feet. If a
206 COMFOET PROCLAIMED.
man would please God, he had better make himself as happy
as he can. When I am by the sea-side, and the tide is coming
in, I see what appears to be a little fringe, looking almost like
a mist ; and I ask a fisherman what it is. He tells me there
is no mist there ; and that what I see are all little shrimps
dancing in ecstasy, throwing themselves in convulsions and
contortions of deHght. I think within myself, " Does God
make those creatures happy, and did he make me to be miser-
able ? Can it ever be a religious thing to be unhappy ?"
No ; true religion is in harmony with the whole world ; it is
in harmony with the sun and moon and stars ; and the sun
shines and the stars twinkle; it is in harmony with all the
world ; and the world has flowers in it and leaping hills, and car-
oling birds ; it has joys in it ; so I believe rehgion was meant to
have joys in it ; and I hold it to be an irreligious thing to go
moping miserably through God's creation. You can not help
it sometimes, just as sins will overtake you, but happiness is a
very virtue. " Go thy way, eat thy bread with joy and drink
thy wine with a merry heart, for God now accepteth thy
works," which means not so much eating and drinking, as the
living with a joyous countenance, and walking before God,
believing in his love, and rejoicing in his grace.
Again, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ;" because un-
comfortable Christians often dishonor religion. Look at my
friend who is come here to-night with such a sorrowful coun-
tenance. Yesterday, he had a new servant in his house, and
when she went down into the kitchen, she said to her fellow-
servant, " Is not our master a pious man ?" " Yes, surely."
" I thought so because he looks so miserable." Kow that is
a disgrace to religion. Whenever a Christian man sinks under
affliction ; when he does not seek grace from God to battle man-
fully with his sea of troubles ; when he does not ask his Father
to give him a great weight of consolation whereby he shall be
able to endure in the evil day, we may say he does dishonor to
the high, and mighty, and noble principles of Christianity, which
are fitted to bear a man up in times of the very deepest affliction.
It is the boast of the gospel that it hfts men above ti-ouble ; it
is one of the glories of our Christianity, that it makes us say,
COMPORT PROCLAIMED. • 207
" Although the fig-tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be
in the vine, the labor of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall
yield no meat, yet will I rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the
God of my salvation." But when the Christian gets sad and
miserable, run to him, brother ; wipe that tear from his eye,
tell him to cheer up, or at least if he is sad, not to let the
world see it ; if he fasts, let him anoint his head, and wash his
face, that he appear not unto men to fast. Let his garments
be always white, and let his head lack no oil ; let him be happy ;
for so he giveth credit to religion.
Again, " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people ;" because a
Christian in an uncomfortable state can not work for God
much. Break a poor man's heart and let him come on this
platform with a grieved and agonizing spirit ; and oh ! what a
want of power there will be in him ! He wants all his time
for his own sighs and groans, and will have none to si)end upon
God's people. We have seen broken-hearted ministers who
have sadly lamented that when in trouble, they have found
themselves unable to declare God's truth as they could wish.
It is when the mind is happy, that it can be laborious. Nothing
hurts the man whilst he can keep all right with Heaven, and
feel it so ; whilst he can say that God is his own God, he can
work night and day, and scarcely feel fatigued. But take
away his comforts and his joys, and then one day's labor dis-
tracts his nerves and shatters all his mind. Then comfort
God's people, because bruised reeds give little music, and the
smoking flax makes httle fire. " Comfort ye, comfort ye" the
saints, for they will work ten times better when their minds
have once been made comfortable.
Again, " Comfort ye" God's people, because ye profess to
love them. You call that poor aged cripple, loitering home
to-night, leaning on her crutch, your sister ; do you know that
she will go to bed to-night supperless ? Only once has she
tasted food to-day, and that was dry bread ; do you know
that? and is she your sister? Let you heart speak: would
you allow your sister to eat dry bread once a day, and hUve
nothing else"? No ; out of love to her as your relation, you
would go and comfort her. There is another poor brother
208 . COMFORT PROCLAIMED.
who will pass you on the road home, not poor in bodily things,
but poor in soul, distressed in spirits. Do n't do as that person
has just done — he has quickened his pace, because he says that
old man makes him miserable, and it makes him melancholy
to talk with him. No ; just go to him and say, " Brother, I
hear you are in the valley of Baca ; well, it is written, they
that pass through the valley of Baca make it a well, the rain
also filleth the pools." Join yourself to him, for it is written,
" Comfort ye, comfort ye my people." " No, sir," you say,
" I intend to go to-night with one or two very good people,
and we shall enjoy ourselves together, and be very glad to-
night." Yes, but if they be glad you can not comfort them,*
so go and seek out some broken-hearted one if thou canst,
some poor, sad, mourning' one, and say, " The Lord hath ap-
peared to thee of old, saying, 'I have loved thee with an
everlasting love.' God's mercies have not failed, and, there-
fore, we are not consumed." Go and cheer him. What ! are
there no families near you where the head has lately been re-
moved by death ? Have you no bereaved friends ? have you
no poor in your streets, no distressed, no desponding ones ?
If you have not, then yonder Scripture might be rent out of
the Bible, for it would be useless ; but because I am sure you
have such, I bid you, in God Almighty's name, to go and seek
out the needy, the distressed, and the poor, and send them
portions of meat. " Comfort ye, comfort ye my people."
III. In the last place. God never gives his children a duty
to do without giving them the means to do it ; he never bids
them make bricks without straw, and when he telfe us to com-
fort God's people, we may be certain there are many means
whereby they may be comforted. Let me just hint at those
things in the everlasting gospel which have a tendency to com-
fort the saints. What, child of God ! Art thou at a loss for a
topic to comfort the aching heart ? Hark thee, then ; go tell
of the ancient things of former days ; whisper in the mourn-
er's ear electing grace, and redeeming mercy, and dying love.
When thou findest a troubled one, tell him of the covenant,
in all things ordered well, signed, sealed, and ratified ; tell him
what the Lord hath done in former days, how he cut Rahab
COMFORT PEOCLAIMED. 209
and wounded the dragon ; tell him the wondrous story of
God's dealings with his people. Tell him that God who divided
the Red sea can make a highway for his people through the
deep waters of affliction ; that he who appeared in the burning
bush which was not consumed, will support him in the furnace
of tribulation. Tell him of the marvelous things which God
has wrought for his chosen people : surely there is enough
there to comfort him. Tell him that watcheth the furnace as
the goldsmith the refining pot.
" Thy days of trial then
Are all ordained by heaven ;
If he appoint the number ' ten,'
You ne'er shall have eleven."
If that does not suffice, tell him of his present mercies ; tell
him that he has much left, though much is gone. Tell him
there is " now no condemnation to them which are in Christ
Jesus ;" tell him that now he is accepted in the Beloved ; tell
him that he is now adopted, and that his standing is safe. Tell
him that Jesus is above, wearing the breast-plate, or pleading
his cause. Tell him that though earth's pillars shake, God is
a refuge for us; tell the mourner that the everlasting God fail-
eth not, neither is weary. Let present facts suffice thee to
cheer him.
^ But if this is not enough, tell him of the future ; whisper to
him that there is a heaven with pearly gates and golden streets ;
tell him that
" A few more rolling suns at most,
Will land him on fair Canaan's coast,"
and therefore he may well bear his sorrows. Tell him that
Chnst is coming, and that his sign is in the heavens, his ad-
vent is near, he will soon appear to judge the earth with equity,
and his people in righteousness. And if that suffice not, tell
liira all about that God who lived and died. Take him to
(Calvary ; picture to him the bleeding hands, and side, and
feet ; tell him of the thorn-crowned King of grief; full him
of the mighty Monarch of woe and blood, who wore the scar-
let of mockery which was yet the purple of the empire of
210 COMPORT PROCLAIMED.
grief; tell him that he himself bore our sins in his own body
on the tree. And if I have not said enough, go to thy Bible,
read its pages, bend thy knee and ask for guidance, and then
tell him some great and precious promise, that so thou mayest
accomplish thy mission, and comfort one of God's people.
I have but a few words to say to some, who, I grieve to
think, w^ant no comfort. They want something else before
they can be comforted. Some of my hearers are not God's
people ; they have never believed in Christ, nor fled to him
for refuge. Now I will tell you briefly and plainly the way
of salvation. Sinner! know that thou art in God's sight
guilty, that God is just and that he will punish thee for thy
sins. Hark thee, then : there is only one way by which thou
canst escape, and it is this : Christ must be thy substitute.
Either thou must die, or Christ must die for thee. Thy only
refuge is faith in Jesus Christ, whereby thou shalt be assured
that Christ did really and actually shed his blood for thee.
And if you are able to believe that Christ died for you, I know
it will cause you to hate sin, to seek Christ, and to love and
serve him world without end. May God bless us all, forgive
us our sins, and accept our souls for Jesus' sake !
SERMON XIII.
THE CHRISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND REJOICING.
" Wherein ye greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need be, ye are in
heaviness through manifold temptations." — 1 Petee, i. 6.
This verse to a worldly man looks amazingly like a contra-
diction ; and even to a Christian man, when he understands it
best, it will still be a paradox. " Ye greatly rejoice," and yet
"ye are in heaviness." Is that possible? Can there be in
the same heart great rejoicing, and yet a temporary heaviness ?
Most assuredly. This paradox has been known and felt by
many of the Lord's children, and it is far from being the
greatest paradox of the Christian life. Men who live within
themselves, and mark their own feelings as Christians, will
often stand and wonder at themselves. Of all riddles, the
greatest riddle is a Christian man. As to his pedigree, what
a riddle he is ! He is a child of the first Adam, " an heir of
wrath, even as others." He is a child of the second Adam :
he was born free ; there is therefore now no condemnation
unto him. He is a riddle in his own existence. " As dying,
and behold we live ; as chastened, and not killed." He is a
riddle as to the component parts of his own spiritual frame.
He finds that which makes him akin to the devil — depravity,
corruption, binding him still to the earth, and causing him to
cry out, " O wretched man that I am ;" and yet he finds that
he has within himself that which exalts him, not merely to the
rank of an angel, but higher still — a something which raises
him up together, and makes him " sit together with Christ
Jesus in heavenly places." He finds that he has that within
him which must ripen into heaven, and yet that about him
which would inevitably ripen into hell, if grace did not forbid.
What wonder, then, beloved, if the Christian man be a para-
212 THE CHKISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND EEJOICriS"G.
dox himself, that his condition should be a paradox too ? Why-
marvel ye, when ye see a creature corrupt and yet purified, mor-
tal and yet immortal, fallen but yet exalted far above principali-
ties and powers — why marvel ye, that ye should find that crea-
ture also possessed of mingled experience, greatly rejoicing, and
yet, at the same time, "in heaviness through manifold tempta-
tions."
I would have you this morning, look first of all at the Chris-
tiarCs heaviness : he is " in heaviness through manifold temp-
tations ;" and then, in the next place, at the Christian'' s great
rejoicing.
I. In the first place, his heaviness. This is one of the
most unfortunate texts in the Bible. I have heard it quoted
ten thousand times for my own comfort, but I never under-
stood it till a day or two ago. On referring to most of the
commentaries in my possession, I can not find that they have
a right idea of the meaning of this text. You will notice that
your friends often say to you when you are in trouble, " There
is a needs be for this affliction ;" there is a needs be, say they,
" for all these trials and troubles that befall you." That is a
very correct and scriptural sentiment ; but that sentiment is
not in the text at all. And yet, whenever this text is quoted
in my hearing, that is what I am always told, or what I con-
ceive I am always told to be the meaning — that the great
temptations, the great trials which befall us, have a needs be
for them. But it does not say so here: it says something
better ; not only that there is a needs be for our temptations,
but that there is a needs be for our heaviness under the temp-
tation. Now, let me show you the difference. There is a
man of God, full of faith — strong ; he is about to do his Mas-
ter's work, and he does it. God is with him, and gives him
great success. The enemy begins to slander him ; all manner
of evil is spoken against him falsely for Christ's name sake.
You say, there is a needs be for that, and you are quite cor-
rect ; but look at the man. How gallantly he behaves him-
self! He lifts his head above his accusers, and unmoved
amidst them all, he stands like a rock in the midst of a roar-
ing tempest, never moved from the firm basis on which it
THE CHEISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND REJOICING. 213
rests. The scene changes, and instead of calamity, perhaps he
is called to endure absolute persecution, as in apostolic times.
We imagine the man driven out from house and home, sepa-
rated fi-om all his kindred, made to wander in the pathless
snows of the mountains ; and what a brave and mighty man
he appeal's, when you see him endunng all this ! His spirits
never sink.. " All this can I do," says he, " and I can greatly re-
joice in it, for Christ's name's sake ; for I can practice the text
which says, ' Rejoice ye in that day and leap for joy ;' " and you
will tell that man there is a needs be for his persecution ; he
says, " Yes, I know it, and I fear not all I have to endure ; I am
not cowed byit." At last imagine the man taken before the
Inquisition and condemned to die. You still comfort him
with the fact, that there is a needs be that he shall die — that
the blood of the martyrs must be the seed of the church —
that the world can never be overcome by Chiist's gospel, ex-
cept through the sufferings and death of his followers — ^that
Chi-ist stooped to conquer, and the church must do the same
— ^that through death and blood must be the road to the
church's victory. And what a noble sight it is, to see that
man going to the stake, and kissing it — looking upon his iron
chains with as much esteem as if they had been chains of
gold. Now tell him there is a needs be for all this, and he
will thank you for the promise ; and you admire the man ;
you wonder at him. Ah ! but there is another class of per-
sons that get no such honor as this. There is another sort of
Christians for whom this promise really was intended, who do
not get the comfort of it. I do admire the man I have pic-
tured to you ; may God long preserve such men in the midst
of the church ; I would stimulate every one of you to imitate
him. Seek for great faith and great love to your Master, that
you may be able to endure, being " steadfast, immovable,
always abounding in the work of the Lord." But remember,
that this text has not in it comfort for such persons ; there
are other texts for them ; this text has been perverted for
such a use as that. This is meant for another and a feebler
grade of Christians, who are often overlooked and sometimes
despised.
214 THE CHEISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND EEJOICING.
I was lying upon my couch during this last week, and ray
spirits were sunken so low that I could weep by the hour like
a child, and yet I knew not what I wept for — but a very slight
thing will move me to tears just now — and a kind friend was
telling me of some poor old soul living near, who was suffering
very great pain, and yet she was full of joy and rejoicing. I
was so distressed by the hearing of that story, and felt so
ashamed of myself, that I did not know what to do ; wondering
why I should be in such a state as this ; while this poor woman,
who had a terrible cancer, and was in the most frightful ^gony,
could nevertheless " rejoice with joy unspeakable, and full of
glory." And in a moment this text flashed upon my mind,
with its real meaning. I am sure it is its real meaning. Read
it over and over again, and you will see I am not wrong.
"Though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness."
It does not say, *' Though now for a season ye are suffering
pain, though now for a season you are poor ; but you are ' in
heaviness ;' " your spirits are taken away from you ; you are
made to weep ; you can not bear your pain ; you are brought
to the very dust of death, and wish that you might die. Your
faith itself seems as if it would fail you. That is the thing for
which there is a needs be. That is what my text declares,
that there is an absolute needs be that sometimes the Chiistian
should not endure his sufferings with a gallant and a joyous
heart ; there is a needs be that sometimes his spirits should
sink within him, and that he should become even as a little
child, smitten beneath the hand of God. Ah ! beloved, we
sometimes talk about the rod, but it is one thing to see the
rod, and it is another thing to feel it ; and many a time liave
we said within ourselves, " If I did not feel so low spirited as
I now do, I should not mind this affliction ;" and what is that
but saying, " If I did not feel the rod I should not mind it ?"
It is just how you feel, that is, after all, the pith and marrow
of your affliction. It is that breaking down of the spirit, that
pulling down of the strong man, that is the very fester of the
soreness of God's scourging — "the blueness of the wound
whereby the soul is made better." I think this one idea has
been enough to be food for me many a day j and there may
THE CHRISTIAN'S HEATTNESS AND EEJOICTITG. 216
be some child of God here to whom it may bring some slight
portion of comfort. We will yet again dwell upon it.
" Though now for a season, if need be, ye are in heaviness
through manifold temptations."
And here let me for a moment or two try to explain why it
is that there is an absolute needs be, not merely for tempta-
tions and troubles, but likewise for our being in heaviness
under them.
In the first place, if we were not in heaviness during our
troubles we should not be like our Covenant head — Christ
Jesus. It is a rule of the kingdom that all the members must
be like the head. They are to be like the head in that day
when he shall appear. " Wo shall be like him, for we shall
see him as he is." But we must be like the head also in his
humiliation, or else we can not be like him in his glory. Now,
you will observe that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ very
often passed through much of trouble without any heaviness.
When he said, " Foxes ha^^e holes, and the birds of the air
have nests, but the Son of man hath not where to lay his
head," I observe no heaviness. I do not think he sighed
over that. And when athirst he sat upon the well, and said,
" Give me to diink," there was no heaviness in all his thirst.
I believe that through the first years of his ministry, altliough
he might have suffered some heaviness, he usually passed over
his troubles like a ship floating over the waves of the sea.
But you will remember that at last the waves of swelling grief
came into the vessel ; at last the Saviour himself, though full
of patience, was obliged to say, " My soul is exceeding sorrow-
ful, even unto death ;" ,and one of the evangelists tells us that
the Saviour " began to be very heavy." What means that
but that his spirits began to sink ? There is a more terrible
meaning yet, which I can not enter into this morning; but still
I may say that the surface meaning of it is that all his spirits
sank within him. He had no longer his wonted courage, and
though he had strength to say, " Nevertheless, not my will,
but thine be done ;" still the weakness did prevail, when he
said, " If it be possible let this cup pass from me." The
Saviour passed through the brook, but he " drank of the brook
216 THE CHEISTIAK'S HEAVINESS AND REJOICING.
by the way ;" and we who pass through the brook of suffering
must drink of it too. He had to bear thie burden, not with
his shoulders omnipotent, but with shoulders that were bend-
ing to the earth beneath a load. And you and I must not
always expect a giant faith that can remove mountains ; some-
times even to us the grasshopper must be a burden, that we
may in all things be like unto our head.
Yet, again, if the Christian did not sometimes suffer heavi-
ness he would begin to grow too proud, and think too much
of himself, and become too great in his own esteem. Those
of us who are of elastic spirit, and who in our health are full
of every thing that can make life happy, are too apt to forget
the Most High God. Lest we should be satisfied from our-
selves, and forget that all our own springs must be in him, the
Lord sometimes seems to sap the springs of life, to drain the
heart of all its spirits, and to leave ns without soul or strength
for mirth, so that the noise of tabret and of viol would be
unto us as but the funeral dirge, without joy or gladness.
Then it is that we discover what we are made of, and out of
the depths we cry unto God, humbled by our adversities.
Another reason for this discipline is, I think, that in heavi-
ness we often learn lessons that we never could attain else-
where. Do you know that God has beauties for every part
of the world ; and he has beauties for every place of experience ?
There are views to be seen from the tops of the Alps that you
can never see elsewhere. Ay, but there are beauties to be
seen in the depths of the dell that ye could never see on the
tops of the mountains ; there are glories to be seen on Pisgah,
wondrous sights to be beheld when by faith we stand on
Tabor ; but there are also beauties to be seen in our Geth-
semanes, and some marvelously sweet flowers are to be culled
by the edge of the dens of the leopards. Men will never be-
come great in divinity until they become great in suffering.
" Ah !" said Luther, " affliction is the best book in my library ;"
and let me add, the best leaf in the book of affliction is that
blackest of all the leaves, the leaf called heaviness, when the
spirit sinks within us, and we can not endure as we could
wish.
THE CHEISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AXD REJOICING. 2l7
And yet again ; this heaviness is of essential use to a Chris-
tian, if he would do good to others. Ah ! there are a great
many Christian people that I was going to say I should like to
see afflicted — but I will not say so much as that ; I should like
to see them heavy in spirit ; if it were the Lord's will that
they should be bowed down greatly, I would not express a
word of regret ; for a httle more sympathy would do them
good ; a little more power to sympathize would be a precious
boon to them, and even if it were purcfiased by a short jour-
ney through a burning, fiery furnace, they might not rue the
day afterwards in which they had been called to pass through
the flame. There are none so tender as those who have been
skinned themselves. Those who have been in the chamber of
affliction know how to comfort those who are there. Do not
believe that any man will become a physician unless he walks
the hospitals ; and I am sure that no one will become a divine,
or become a comforter, unless he lies in the hospital as well as
walks through it, and has to sufflgr himself God can not make
ministers — and I speak with reverence of his holy Name — he
can not make a Barnabas except in the fire. It is there, and
there alone, that he can make his sons of consolation ; he may
make his sons of thunder anywhere ; but his sons of consola-
tion he must make in the fire, and there alone. Who shall
speak to those whose heai*ts are broken, who shall bind up
their wounds, but those whose hearts have been broken also,
and whose wounds have long run with the sore of grief? *'If
need be," then, " ye are in heaviness through manifold temp-
tations."
I think I have said enough about this heaviness, except that
I must add it is but for a season. A little time, a few hours,
a few days, a few months at most, it shall all have passed
away ; and then comes the " eternal weight of glory, wherein
ye greatly rejoice."
II. And now to the second part of the text. Here we have
something far more joyous and comfortable than the first.
"Whebein YE GREATLY REJOICE." And can a Christian
greatly rejoice while he is in heaviness ? Yes, most assuredly
he can. Mariners tell us that there are some parts of the sea
10
218 THE CHRISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND REJOICING.
where there is a strong current upon the surface going one
way, but that down in the depths there is a strong current
running the other w'ay. Two seas do not meet and interfere
with one another ; but one stream of water on the surface is
running in one direction, and another below in an opposite di-
rection. Now, the Christian is like that. On the surface there
is a stream of heaviness rolling with dark waves ; but down
in the depths there is a strong under-current of great rejoicing
that is always flowing there. Do you ask me what is the
cause of this great rejoicing ? The apostle tells us, ^^ Wherein
ye greatly rejoice." What does he mean ? You must refer
to his own Avritings, and then you will see. He is writing " to
the strangers scattered throughout Pontus," and so forth.
The first thing that he says to them is, that they are " elect
according to the foreknowledge of God ;" " wherein we greatly
rejoice." Ah ! even when the Christian is most " in heaviness
through manifold temptations," what a mercy it is that he can
know that he is still elect of God ! Any man who is assured
that God has " chosen him from befoi'e the foundation of the
world," may well say, " Wherein we greatly rejoice." Let
me be lying upon a bed of sickness, and just revel in that
one tliought. Before God made the heavens and the earth,
and laid the pillars of the firmament in their golden sockets,
he set his love upon me ; upon the breast of the great high
priest he wrote my name, and in his everlasting book it stands,
never to be erased — " elect according to the foreknowledge
of God." Why, this may make a man's soul leap within him,
and all the heaviness that the infirmities of the flesh may lay
upon him shall be but as nothing ; for this tremendous current
of his oveiflowing joy shall sweep away tlie mill dam of his
grief. Bursting and overleaping every obstacle, it shall over-
flood all his sorrows till they are drowned and covered up,
and shall not be mentioned any more for ever. " Wherein we
greatly rejoice." Come, thou Christian ! thou art dei^ressed
and cast down. Think for a moment. Thou art chosen of
God and precious. Let the bell of election ring in thine ear
— that ancient Sabbath bell of the covenant; and let thy name
"be heard in its notes and say, I beseech thee say, " Doth not
THE christian's HEAVINESS AND REJOICING. 219
this make thee greatly rejoice, though now for a season, if need
be, thou art in heaviness through manifold temptations ?"
Again, you will see another reason. The apostle says that
we are " elect through sanctification of the spirit unto obedi-
ence and sprinkling of the blood of Jesus Christ" — " wherein
we greatly rejoice." Is the obedience of the Lord Jesus Christ
girt about my loins, to be my beauty and my glorious dress ;
aud is the blood of Jesus sprinkled upon me, to take away all
my guilt and all my sin ; and shall I not in this greatly rejoice ?
What shall there be in all the depressions of spirits that can
possibly come upon me that shall make me break my harp,
even though I should for a moment hang it upon the willows ?
Do I not expect that yet again my songs shall mount to
heaven ; and even now through the thick darkness do not the
sparks of my joy appear, when I remember that I have still
upon me the blood of Jesus, and still about me the glorious
righteousness of the Messiah ?
But the great and cheering comfort of the apostle is, that
we are elect unto an inheritance incorruptible, and undefiled,
and that fadeth not away, reserved in heaven for us. And
here, brethren, is the grand comfort of the Christian. When
the child of God is sore stricken and much depressed, the
sweet hope, that living or dying, there is an inheritance incor-
ruptible, reserved in heaven for him, may indeed make him
greatly rejoice. He is drawing near the gates of death, and
his spirit is in heaviness, for he has to leave behind him all his
family and all that life holds dear. Besides, his sickness brings
upon him naturally a depression of spirit. But you sit by his
bed side, and you begin to talk to him of the
" Sweet flelds beyond the swelling flood,
Arrayed in living green."
You tell him of Canaan on the other side the Jordan — of the
land that lioweth with milk and honey — of the Lamb in the
midst of the throne, and of all the glories which God hath
prepared for them that love him ; and you see his dull leaden
eye light up with serapiiic brightuess ; he shakes off his heavi-
ness, and he begins to sing,
220 THE christian's heaviness and rejoicing.
*' On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,
And cast a wishful eye
To Canaan's fair and happy land,
Where my possessions lie."
This makes him greatly rejoice ; and if to that you add that
possibly before he has passed the gates of death his Master
may appear — if you tell him that the Lord Jesus Christ is
coming in the clouds of heaven, and though we have not seen
him, yet believing in him we rejoice with joy unspeakable and
full of glory, expecting the second advent — if he has grace to
believe in that sublime doctrine, he will be ready to clap his
hands upon his bed of weariness and cry, " Even so, Lord
Jesus, come quickly ! come quickly !"
And in drawing to a close, I may notice, there is one more
doctrine that will always cheer a Christian, and I think that this
perhaps is the one chiefly intended here in the text. Look at the
end of the 15th verse : " Reserved in heaven for you who are
kept by the power of God through faith unto salvation ;" this
perhaps will be one of the greatest cordials to a Christian in
heaviness, that he is not kept by his own power, but by the
power of God, and that he is not left in his own keeping, but
he is kept by the Most High. Ah ! what should you and I do
in the day when darkness gathers round our faith if we had to
keep ourselves ! I can never understand what an Arminian
does, when he gets into sickness, sorrow, and aflliction ; from
what well he draws his comfort, I know not ; but I know
whence I draw mine. It is this : " When flesh and heart
faileth, God is the strength of my life, and my portion for
ever." " I know whom I have believed, and I am persuaded
that he is able to keep that v,4nch I have committed unto him
against that day." But take away tliat doctrine of the Saviour's
keeping his people, and where is my hope ? What is there in
the gospel worth my preaching, or worth your receiving ? I
know that he hath said, " I give unto my sheep eternal life,
and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them
out of my hand." What, Lord, but suppose they should grow
faint — that they should begin to murmur in their affliction.
Shall they perish then ? No, they shall never perish. But
THE CHRISTIAN'S HEAVINESS AND REJOICING. 221
suppose the pain should grow so hot that their faith should
fail : shall they not perish then ? No, " they shall not perish,
neither shall any man pluck them out of ray hand." But sup-
pose their sense should seem to wander, and some should try
to pei-vert them from the faith : shall they not be perverted ?
Ko ; " they shall never perish." But suppose in some hour
of their extremity, hell and the world and their own fears
should all beset them, and they should have no power to stand
— no power whatever to resist the fierce onslaughts of the
enemy, shall they not perish then ? No, they are " kept by
the power of God through faith unto salvation, ready to be
revealed," and "they shall never perish, neither shall any man
pluck them out of my hand." Ah ! this is the doctrine, the
cheering assurance " wherein we greatly rejoice, though now
for a season, if need be, we are in heaviness through manifold
temptations."
One word before I send you away. There are some of you
here to whom this precious passage has not a word to say.
Our heaviness, O worldling, " our heaviness is but for a season."
Your heaviness is to come ; and it shall be a heaviness intoler-
able, because hopelessly everlasting. Our temptations, though
they be manifold, are but light afflictions and are but for a
moment, and they "work out for us a far more exceeding
and etemal weight of glory ;" but your joys that you now
have are evanescent as a bubble, and they are passing away,
and they are working out for you a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of misery. I beseech you, look at this matter.
Search and see whether all be right with your spirits — whether
it be well for you to venture into an eternal state as you are ;
and may God give you grace, that you may feel your need of a
Saviour, that you may seek Christ, lay hold upon him, and so
may come into a gracious state, wherein ye shall greatly re-
joice, even though for a season, if needs be, ye should be in
heaviness through manifold temptations I *
SERMON XIV.
THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY.
" The iniquity of the house of Israel and Judah. is exceeding great." —
EZEKIEL, ix. 9.
" The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." — 1 John,
LI.
I SHALL have two texts this morning — the evil and its
remedy. " The iniquity of the house of Israel and Judah is
exceeding great ;" and " The blood of Jesus Christ his Son
cleanseth us from all sin."
We can learn nothing of the gospel, except by feeling its
truths — no one truth of the gospel is ever truly known and
really learned, until we have tested and tried and proved it,
and its power has been exercised upon us. I have heard of a
naturalist who thought himself exceedingly wise with regard
to the natural history of birds, and yet he had learned all he
knew in his study, and had never so much as seen a bird either
flying through the air or sitting upon its perch. He was but
a fool although he thought himself exceeding wise. And
there are some men who like him think themselves great
theologians; they might even pretend to take a doctor's
degree in divinity ; and yet, if we came to the root of the
matter, and asked them whether they ever saw or felt any of
those things of which they talked, they would have to say,
*■' No ; I know these things in the letter, but not in the spirit ;
I understand them as a matter of theory, but not as things of
my own consciousness and experience." Be assured, that as
the naturalist who was merely the student of other men's
observations knew nothing, so the man who pretends to
religion, but has never entered into the depths and power of
its doctrines, or felt the influence of them upon his heart,
THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY. 223
knows nothing whatever, and all the knowledge he pretend-
eth to is but varnished ignorance. There are some sciences
that may be learned by the head, but the science of Christ
crucified can only be learned by the heart.
I have made use of this remark as the preface of my sermon,
because I think it will be forced from each of our hearts before
we have done, if the two truths which I shall consider this
morning, shall come at all home to us with power. The first
truth is the greatness of our sin. No man can know the
greatness of sin till he has felt it, for there is no measuring-rod
for sin, except its condemnation in our own conscience, when
the law of God speaks to us with a terror that may be felt.
And as for the richness of the blood of Christ and its ability
to wash us, of that also we can know nothing till we have
ourselves been washed, and have ourselves proved that the
blood of Jesus Christ the Son of God hath cleansed us from
all sin.
I. I shall beghi, then, with the first doctrine as it is con-
tained in the ninth chapter of Ezekiel, the ninth verse — "The
iniquity of the house of Israel and Judah is exceeding great."
There are two great lessons which every man must learn, and
learn by experience, before he can be a Christian. First, he
must learn that sin is an exceeding great and evil thing ; and
he must learn also that the blood of Christ is an exceedingly
precious thing, and is able to save unto the uttermost thera
that come unto it. The former lesson we have before us. O
may God, by his infinite Spirit, by his great wisdom, teach it to
some of us who never knew it before !
Some men imagine that the gospel was devised, in some
way or other, to soften down the harshness of God towards
sin. Ah ! how mistaken the idea ! There is no more harsh
condemnation of sin anywhere than in the gospel. Ye shall
go to Sinai, and ye shall theft hear its thunders rolling ; ye
shrill behold the flashing of its terrible lightnings, till, like
Moses, ye shall exceedingly fear an<l quake, and come away
declaring that sin must be a terrible thing, otherwise the
Holy One had never come upon Mount Paran with all these
terrors round about bira. But after that ye shall go to Cal
224 THE EVIL AND ITS EEMEDY.
vaiy ; there ye shall see no lightnings, and ye shall hear no
thunders, but instead thereof, ye shall hear the groans of an
expiring God, and ye shall behold the contortions and agonies
of One who bore
"All that incarnate God could bear,
"With strength enough and none to spare;"
and then ye shall say, " Now, though I never fear nor quake,
yet I know how exceedingly great a thing sin must be, since
such a sacrifice was required to make an atonement for it."
Oh ! sinners, if ye come to the gospel, imagining that there
ye shall find an apology for your sin, ye have indeed mistaken
your way. Moses charges you with sin, and tells you that you
are without excuse ; but as for the gospel, it rends away from
you every shadow of a covering ; it leaves you without a cloak
for your sin ; it tells you that you have sinned willfully against
the Most High God — that ye have not an apology that ye can
possibly make for all the iniquities that ye have committed
against him ; and so far in any way from smoothing over your
sin, and teUing you that you are a weak creature, and there-
fore could not help your sin, it charges upon you the very
weakness of your nature, and makes that itself the most
damning sin of all. If ye seek apologies, better look even
into the face of Moses, when it is clothed with all the
majesty of the terrors of the law, than into the face of the
gospel, for that is more terrible by far to him who seeks to
cloak his sin.
!N"or does the gospel in any way whatever give man a hope
that the claims of the law will in any way be loosened. Some
imagine that under the old dispensation God demanded great
things of men — ^that he did bind upon man heavy burdens
that were grievous to be borne — and they suppose that Christ
came into the world to put upon the shoulders of men a lighter
law, something which it would be more easy for them to obey
— a law which they can more readily keep, or which, if they
break, would not come upon them with such terrible threat-
enings. Ah, not so. The gospel came not into the world to
soften down the law. Till heaven and earth shall pass away,
THE EVIL AND ITS EEMEDT. 225
not one jot or tittle of the law shall fail. What God hath
said to the sinner in the law, he saith to the sinner in the gos-
pel. If he declareth that " the soul that sinneth it shall die,"
the testimony of the gospel is not contrary to the testimony
of the law. If he declares that whosoever breaketh the sacred
law shall most assuredly be punished, the gospel also demands
blood for blood, and eye for eye, and tooth for tooth, and doth
not relax a solitary jot or tittle of its demands, but is as se-
vere and as terribly just as even the law itself Do you reply
to this, that Christ has certainly softened down the law ? I
reply, that ye know not, then, the mission of Christ. What
said he himself? The Lord hath said in the law, "Thou shalt
not commit adultery ;" hath Christ softened the law ? No.
Saith he, " I say unto you, that whosoever looketh upon a
woman to lust after her, hath committed adultery with her
already in his heart." That is no softening of the law. It is,
as it were, the grinding of the edge of the terrible sword of
divine justice, to make it sharper far than it seemed before.
Christ hath not put out the furnace ; he rather seemeth to
heat it seven times hotter. Before Christ came, sin seemed
unto me to be but little ; but when he came, sin became ex-
ceeding sinful, and all its dread heinousness started out be-
fore the light.
But, says one, surely the gospel does in some degree remove
the greatness of our sin. Does it not soften the punishment
of sin ? Ah ! no. Ye shall appeal to Moses ; let him ascend
the pulpit and preach to you. He says, " The soul that sin-
neth, it shall die ;" and his sermon is dread and terrible. He
sits down. And now comes Jesus Christ, the man of a loving
countenance. What says he with regard to the punishment
of sin ? Ah ! sirs, there was never such a preacher of the
fires of hell as Christ was. Our Lord Jesus Christ was all
love, but he was all honesty too. " Never man spake like that
man," when he came to speak of the punishment of the lost.
What other prophet was the author of such dread expressions
as these ? — " He shall burn up the chaff with unquenchable
fire;" " these shall go away into everlasting punishment ;" or
this ? — " Where their worm dieth not, and their fire is not
10*
226 THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY.
quenched." Stand at the feet of Jesus when he tells you of
the punisliment of sin, and the effect of iniquity, and you may
tremble there far more than you would have done if Moses
had been the preacher, and if Sinai had been in the back-
ground to conclude the sermon. No, brethren, the gospel of
Christ in no sense whatever helps to make sin less. The proc-
lamation of Christ to-day by his minister is the same as the
utterance of Ezekiel of old — " The iniquity of the house of "
Israel and Judah is exceeding great."
And no\v let us endeavor to deal with hearts and consciences
a moment. My brethren, there are some here who have never
felt this truth. There are many of you who start back af-
fi-ighted from it. You will go home and represent me as one
who delights to dwell on certain dark and terrible things that
I suppose to be true — you say within yourselves, " I can not,
I will not, receive that doctrine of sin ; I know I am a frail
weak creature ; I have made a great many mistakes in my life —
that I will admit ;' but still such is my nature, and I therefore
could not help it; I am not going to be arraigned before a
pulpit and condemned as the chief of criminals ; I may be a
sinner — I confess I am, with all the rest of mankind — but as
to my sin being any thing so great as that man attempts to
describe, I do not believe it ; I reject the doctrine." And
thinkest thou, my friend, that I am surprised at thy doing so ?
I know thee who thou art ; it is because as yet the grace of
God has never touched thy soul that therefore thou sayest
this. And here comes the proof of the doctrine with which
I started. Thou dost not know this truth, because thou hast
never felt it; but if thou hadst felt it, as every true-born child
of God has felt it, thou wouldst say, " The man can not de-
scribe its terrors as they are ; they must be felt before they
can be known, and when felt they are not to be expressed in
all their fullness of terror."
But come, let me reason with you for a momeat. Your sin
is great, although you think it small. Remember, brother,
I am not about to make out that thy sin is greater than mine.
I speak to thee, and I speak to myself also, thy sin is great.
Follow me in these few thoughts and perhaps thou wilt better
THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY. 227
uncierstand it. How gre.it a thing is one sin, when, according
to the Word of God, otie sin could suffice to damn the soul.
One sin, remember, destroyed the whole human race. Adam
did but take of the forbidden fruit, and that one sin blasted
Eden, and made all of us inheritors of the curse, and caused
the earth to bring forth thorns and thistles, even unto this
day. But it may be said, could one sin destroy the soul ? Is
it possible that one solitary sin could open the gates of hell,
and then close them upon the guilty soul for ever, and that
God should refuse his mercy, and shut out that soul for ever
from the presence of his face? Yes, if I believe my Bible, I
must believe that. Oh, how great must my sins be if this is
the terrible effect of one transgression. Sin can not be the
little thing that my pride has helped me to imagine it to be.
It must be an awful thing if but one sin could ruin my soul
for ever.
Think again, my friend, for a moment, what an imprudent
and impertinent thing sin is. Behold ! there is one God who
filleth all in all, and he is the infinite Creator. He makes me,
and I am nothing more in his sis^ht than nn animated ofrain of
dust; and I, that animated graui of dust, with a mere epliemeral
existence, have the impertinence and imprudence to set up my
■will against his will ! I dare to proclaim war against the in-
finite Majesty of heaven. It is a thing so audacious, so infer-
nally full of pride, that one need not marvel that even a sin in
the little eye of man, should, when it is looked upon by the
conscience in the light of heaven, appear to be great indeed.
But think again, how great does your sin and mine seem, if
we will but think of the ingratitude which has marked it. The
Lord our God has fed us from our youtli up to this day : he
has put the breath into our nostrils, and has held our souls in
life; he has clothed the earth witli mercies and he has permitted
US to walk across these fair fields; and he has given us bread
to eat and raiment to p«it on, and mercies so precious that
their full value can never be known until they are taken from
us; and yet you and I have persevered in breaking all his
laws willfully and wantonly : we have gone contrary to his
will ; it has been sufficient for us to know that a thing has
228 THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY.
been God's will, and we have at once run contrary thereunto.
Oh, if we set our secret sins in the light of his mercy, if our
transgressions are set side by side wdth his favors, we must
each of us say, our sins indeed are exceeding great.
Mark, I am not now addressing myself solely and wholly to
those whom the world itself condemns of great sin. We of
course do not hesitate for a moment to speak of the drunkard,
the whoremonger, the adulterer, and the thief, as being great
sinners ; we should not spare to say that their iniquity is exceed-
ing great, for it exceeds even the bounds of man's morality, and
the law of our civil government. But I am speaking this day
to you who have been the most moral, to you whose outward
carriage is every thing that could be desired, to you who have
kept the Sabbath, to you who have frequented God's house, and
outwardly worshiped. Your sins and mine are exceeding great.
They seem but little to the outward eye — but if we came to dig
into the bowels thereof and see their iniquity, their hideous
blackness, we must say of them, they are exceecling great.
And again, I repeat it, this is a doctrine that no man can
rightly know and receive until he has felt it. My hearer, hast
thou ever felt this doctrine to be true — " my sin is exceeding
great ?" Sickness is a terrible thing, more especially when it
is accompanied with pain, when the poor body is racked to an
extreme, so that the spirit fails within us, and we are dried up
like a potsherd ; but I bear witness in this place this morning,
that sickness, however agonizing, is nothing like the discovery
of the evil of sin. I had rather pass through seven years of
the most weaiisome pain, and the most languishing sickness,
than I would ever again pass through the terrible discovery
of the terrors of sin. There be some of you who will under-
stand what I mean ; for, brother, you have felt the same.
Once on a time, you were playing with your lusts, and dally-
ing with your sin, and it pleased God to open your eyes to see
that sin is exceeding sinful. You remember the horror of that
state, it seemed as if all hideous things were gathered into one
dread and awful spectacle. You had before loved your iniqui-
ties, but now you loathed them— and you loathed yourselves ;
before, you had thought that your transgressions might easily
THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY. 229
be got rid of; they were matters tliat might be speedily washed
out by repentance, or purged away by amendment of your
life; but now sin seemed an alarming thing, and that you
should have committed all this iniquity ; life seemed to you a
curse, and death, if it had not been for that dreary something
after death, would have been to you the highest blessing, it
you could have escaped the lashings of your conscience, which
seemed to be perpetuuUy whipping you with whips of burning
wire. Some of you, perhaps, passed through but a little of
this. God was graciously pleased to give you deliverance in
a few hours ; but you must confess that those hours were hours
into which it seemed as if years of misery had been com-
pressed. It was my sad lot for three or four years to feel the
greatness of my sin without a discovery of the greatness of
God's mercy. I had to walk through this world with more
than a world upon my shoulders, and sustain a grief that as
far exceeds all other griefs, as a mountain exceeds a mole-hill ;
and I often wonder to this day how it was that my hand was
kept from rending my own body into pieces through the ter-
rible agony wliich I felt when I discovered the greatness of
my transgression. Yet I had not been a greater sinner than
any one of you here present, openly and publicly, but heart
sins were laid bare, sins of lip and tongue were discovered,
and then I knew — oh, that I may never have to learn over
again in such a dreadful school this terrible lesson — "the
iniquity of J udah and of Israel is exceeding great." This is
the first part of the discourse.
II. " Well," cries one, turning on his heel, " there is very
little comfort in that. It is enough to drive one to despair, if
not to madness itself." Ah friend ! such is the very design of
this text. If I may have the pleasure of driving you to de-
spair, if it be adespair of your self-righteousness and a despair
of saving your own soul, I shall be thrice happy.
We turn therefore from that terrible text to the second one,
the first of John, the first chapter, and the seventh verse : —
" The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin."
There lies the l!:ickness ; here stands the Lord Jesus Christ.
What will he do with it ? Will he go and speak to it, and
230 THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY.
say, " This is no great evil ; this blackness is but a little spot ?"
Oh ! no ; he looks at it, and he says, " This is terrible black-
ness, darkness that may be felt ; this is an exceeding great
evil." Will he cover it up then ? Will he weave a mantle of
excuse and then wrap it round about the iniquity ? Ah ! no ;
whatever covering there may have been he lifts it off, and he
declares that when the Spirit of truth is come he will convince
the world of sin, and lay the sinner's conscience bare and probe
the wound to the bottom. What then will he do ? He will
do a far better thing than make an excuse or than to pretend
in any way to speak lightly of it. He will cleanse it all away,
remove it entirely by the power and meritorious virtue of his
own blood, which is able to save unto the uttermost. The
gospel does not consist in making a man's sin appear little.
The way Christians get their peace is not by seeing their sins
shriveled and shrinking until they seem small to them. But
on the contrary, they, first of all, see their sins expanding,
and then, after that, they obtain their peace by seeing those
sins entirely swept away — fir as the east is from the west.
Now, carrying in mind the remarks I made upon the first
text, I call your attention for a few moments to the greatness
and beauty of the second one. Note here, " The blood of
Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin." Dwell on the
word " all" for a moment. Our sins are great ; every sin is
great ; but there are some that in our apprehension seem to
be greater than others. There are crimes that the lip of mod-
esty could not mention. I might go far in this pulpit this
morning in describing the degradation of human nature in the
sins which it has invented. It is amazing how the ingenuity
of man seems to have exhausted itself in inventing fresh
crimes. Surely there is not the possibility of the invention of
a new sin. But if there be, ere long man will invent it, for
man seemeth exceedingly cunning and full of wisdom in the
discoveiy of means of destroying himself and the endeavor to
injure his Maker. But there are some sins that show a dia-
bolical extent of degraded ingenuity — some sins of which it
were a shame to speak, of which it were disgraceful to think.
But note here : " The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all
THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY. 231
sin." There may be some sins of which a man can not speak,
but there is no sin which tlie blood of Christ can not wash
away. Blasphemy, however profane; lust, however bestial;
covetousness, how^ever far it may have gone into theft and
rapine ; breach of the commandments of God, however much
of riot it may have run — all this may be pardoned and washed
away through the blood of Jesus Christ. In all the long list
of human sins, though that be long as time, there standeth
but one sin that is unpardonable, and that one no sinner has
committed if he feels within himself a longing for mercy, for
that sin once committed, the soul becomes hardened, dead and
seared, and never desireth afterwards to find peace with God.
I therefore declare to thee, O trembling* sinner, that however
great thine iniquity may be, whatever sin thou mayest have
committed in all the list of guilt, however far thou mayest
have exceeded all thy fellow-creatures, though thou mayest
have distanced the Pauls and Magdalens and every one of the
most heinous culprits in the black race of sin, yet the blood of
Christ is able now to wash thy sin away. Mark ! I speak not
lightly of thy sin, it is exceeding great ; but I speak still more
loftily of the blood of Christ. Great as is thy sins, the blood
of Christ is greater still. Thy sins are like great mountains,
but the blood of Christ is like Noah's flood ; twenty cubits up-
wards shall this blood prevail, and the top of the mountains
of thy sin shall be covered.
Just take the word " all" in another sense, not only as tak-
ing in all sorts of sin, but as comprehending the great aggre-
gate mass of sin. Come here sinner, thou with the gray head.
Wliat are we to understand in thy case by this word all f
Bring hither the tremendous load of the sins of thy youth.
Those sins are still in thy bones, and thy tottering knees some-
times testify against the iniquities of thy early youth ; but all
these sins Christ can remove. Now bring hither the sins of
thy riper manhood, thy transgressions in the family, thy fail-
ures in business, all the mistakes and all the errors thou hast
committed in tl»e thoughts of thy heart. Bring them all here ;
and then add the iniquities of thy frail and trembling age.
What a mass is there here I What a mass of sin ! Stir up that
232 THE EVIL AliTD ITS REMEDY.
putrid mass, but put thy finger to thy nostrils first, for thou canst
not bear the stench thereof if thou art a man with a living and
quickened conscience. Couldst thou bear to read thine own
diary if thou hadst written there all thy acts ? No ; for though
thou be the purest of mankind, thy thoughts, if they could
have been recorded, would now, if thou couldst read them,
make thee startle and wonder that thou art demon enough to
have had such imaginations within thy soul. But put them all
here, and all these sins the blood of Christ can wash away.
Nay, more than that. Come hither ye thousands who are
gathered together this morning to listen to the Word of God ;
what is the aggregate of your guilt ? Hither have ye come,
men of every grade and class, and women of every age and
order ; what is the mass of all your united guilt ? Could ye
put it so that mortal observation could comprehend the whole
within its ken, it were as a mountain with a base broad as
eternity, and a summit lofty almost as the throne of the great
archangel. But, remember, the blood of Jesus Christ his
Son cleanseth from all sin. Let but the blood be applied to
our consciences and all our guilt is removed, and cast away
for ever — all, none left, not one solitary stain remaining — all
gone, like Israel's enemies — all drowned in the Red sea, so
that there was not one of them left, all swept away, not so
much as the remembrance of them remaining. "The blood
of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin."
Yet, once more, in the praise of this blood we must notice
one further feature. There be some of you here who are say-
ing, " Ah ! that shall be my hope when I come to die, that
in the last hour of my extremity the blood of Christ will take
my sins away ; it is now ray comfort to think that the blood
of Christ shall wash, and purge, and purify the transgressions
of life." But, mark ! my text saith not so ; it does not say
the blood of Christ shall cleanse — that were a truth — but it
says something greater than that — it says, "The blood of
Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth'''^ — cleanseth now. And is it
possible that now a man may be forgiven ? Can a harlot now
have all her sins blotted out of the book of God ; and can
she know it ? Can the thief this day have all his transgres-
THB EVIL AND ITS REMEDY. 233
sions cast into the sea ; and can he know it ? Can I, the chief
of sinners, this day be cleansed from all my sins, and know it ?
Can I know that I stand accepted before the throne of God,
a holy creature because washed from every sin ? Yes, tell it
the wide world over, that the blood of Christ can not only
wash you in the last dying article, but can wash you now.
And let it be known, moreover, that to this there are a thou-
sand witnesses, who, rising in this very place from their seats,
could sing,
" Oh, how sweet to view the flowing ♦
Of my Saviour's precious blood,
With divine assurance knowing
He has made my peace with God."
What would you not give to have all your sins blotted out
now f Would you not give yourself away to become the
servant of God for ever, if 71010 your sins should be washed
away ? Ah, then, say not in your hearts, " What shall I do
to obtain this mercy ?" Imagine not there is any difficulty in
your way. Suppose not there is some hard thing to be done
before you can come to Christ to be washed. O beloved ! to
the man that knows himself to be guilty, there is not one bar-
rier between himself and Christ. Come, soul, this moment
come to him that hung upon the cross of Calvary ! come now
and be washed.
But what meanest thou by coming? I mean this: come
thou and put thy trust in Christ, and thou shalt be saved.
What is meant by believing in Christ ? Some say, that " to
believe in Christ is to believe that Christ died for me." That
is not a satisfactory definition of faith. An Arminian believes
that Christ died for everybody. He must, therefore, neces-
sarily believe that Christ died for him. His believing that
will not save him, for he will still remain an unconverted man
and yet believe that. To believe in Christ is to trust him.
The way I believe in Christ, and I know not how to speak of
it, except as I feel it myself, is simply this : I know it is writ-
ton that " Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners."
I do firmly believe that those he came to save he will save.
The only question I ask myself, is " Can I put myself among
234 THE EVIL AND ITS REMEDY.
that number whom he has declared he came to save ?" Am
I a sinuer ? — not one that utters the word in a complimentary
sense ; but do I feel the deep compunction in my inmost soul ?
do I stand and feel convicted, guilty, and condemned ? I do ;
I know I do. Whatever I may not be, one thing- I know I
am — a sinner, guilty, consciously guilty, and often miserable
on account of that guilt. Well, then, the Scripture says,
" This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that
Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners."
" And when thine eye of faith is dim,
Stiil trust in Jesus, sink or swim ;
Thus, at his footstool bow the knee, • .
And Israel's God thy peace shall be."
Let me put my entire trust in the bloody sacrifice which he
ofiered upon my behalf. No dependence will I have upon my
prayings, my doings, my feelings, my weepings, my preach-
ings, my thinkings, my Bible readings, nor all that. I would
desire to have good works, and yet in my good works I will
not put a shadow of trust.
" Nothing in my hands I bring.
Simply to thy cross I cling."
And if there be any power in Christ to save, I am saved ; if
there be an everlasting arm extended by Christ, and if that
Saviour who hung there was " God over all, blessed for ever,"
and if his blood is still exhibited before the throne of God as
the sacrifice for sin, then perish I can not, till the throne of
God shall break, and till the pillars of God's justice shall
crumble.
Now, sinner, what then hast thou to do this morning? If
thou feelest thy guilt to be great, cast thyself entirely upon
this sacrifice by blood. " But no," says one, " I have not felt
enough." Thy feelings are not Christ. " No, but I have not
prayed enough." Thy prayers are not Christ, and thy pray-
ers can not save thee. " No, but I have not repented enough."
Thy repentance may destroy thee, if thou puttest that in the
Ijlace of Christ. All that thou hast, I repeat this morning, is
THE EVIL AXD ITS REMEDY. 236
this — dost thou feel thyself to be a lost, ruined, guilty sinner ?
Then simply cast thyself on the fact that Christ is able to save
sinners, and rest there. What ! do you say you can not do it ?
Oh may God enable you, may he give you faith, sink or swim,
to cast yourself on that. " Well ! but," you say, "I may not,
being such a sinner." You may ; and God never yet rejected
a sinner that sought salvation by Jesus. Such a thing never
happened, though the sinner sometimes thought it had. Come,
the crumb is under the table ; though thou be but a dog come
and pick it up ; it is a privilege even for the dog to take it ;
and mercy that is great to thee, is but a crumb to him that
gives it freely — come and take it. Christ will not reject thee.
And if thou be the chiefest of sinners that ever lived, only sim-
ply trust thyself upon him, and perish thou canst not, if God
be God, and if this Bible be the book of his truth. The Lord
now help each one of us to come afresh to Christ, and to his
name be glory.
SERMON XV.
SAMSON CONQUERED.
" And she said, the Philistines be upon thee, Samsou. And he awoke out
of his sleep, and said, I will go out as at other times before, and shake my-
sel£ And he wist not that the Lord was departed from him. But the Philis-
tines took him, and put out his eyes, and brought him down to Gaza, and
bound him with fetters of brass ; and he did grind in the prison house." —
Judges, xvL 20, 21.
Samson is, in many respects, one of the most remarkable
men whose history is recorded in the pages of inspiration.
He enjoyed a singular privilege, only accorded to one other
person in the Old Testament. His birth was foretold to his
parents by an angel. Isaac was promised to Abraham and
Sarah by angels whom they entertained unawares ; but save
Isaac, Samson was the only one whose birth was foretold by
an angelic messenger before the opening of the gospel dispen-
sation. Before his birth he was dedicated to God, and set
apart as a Nazarite. IsTow, a Nazarite was a person who was
entirely consecrated to God, and in token of his consecration
he drank no wine ; and allowed his hair to grow, untouched
by the razor. Samson, you may therefore understand, was
entirely consecrated to God, and when any saw him, they
would say, " That man is God's man, a Nazarite, set apart."
God endowed Samson with supernatural strength, a strength
which never could have been the result of mere thews and
sinews. It was not the fashioning of Samson's body that
made him strong ; it was not the arm, or the fist with which
he smote the Philistines ; it was a miracle that dwelt within
him, a continued going forth of the omnipotence of God,
which made him mightier than thousands of his enemies.
Samson appears very early to have discovered in himself this
great strength, for " the Spirit of the Lord began to move
SAMSON CONQUERED. 237
him at times in the camp of Dan." He judged Israel for
thirty years, and gloriously did he deliver them. What a
noble being he must have been ! See him, when he steps into
the vineyard for a moment from his parents. A lion that has
been crouching there springs upon him, but he meets him all
unarmed, receives him upon his brawny arms and rends him
like a kid. See him afterwards, when his countrymen have
bound him and taken him down from the top of the rock, and
delivered him up to the thousands of the Philistines. He has
scarcely come near them, w^hen, without a weapon, with his
own foot, he begins to spurn them ; and seeing there the jaw-
bone of an ass, he takes that ignoble weapon, and sweeps
away the men that had helmets about their heads and were
girded with greaves of brass. Nor did his vigor fail him in
his later Hfe, for he died in the very prime of his days. One
of his greatest exploits was performed • at this very season.
He is entrapped in the city of Gaza. He remains there till
midnight ; so confident is he in his strength that he is in no
hurry to depart, and instead of assaihng the guard, and mak-
ing them draw the bolts, he wrenches up the two posts, and
takes away the gate, bar and all, and carries his mighty bur-
den for miles to the top of a hill that is before Hebron.
Every way it must have been a great thing to see this man,
especially if one had him for a friend. Had one been his foe,
the more distant the sight the better, for none could - escape
from him but those who fled ; but to have him for a friend
and to stand with him in the day of battle, was to feel that
you had an army in a single man, and had in one frame that
which would strike thousands with terror. Samson, however,
though he had great physical strength, had but little mental
force, and even less spiritual power. His whole life is a scene
of miracles and follies. He had but little grace, and was
easily overcome by temptation. He is enticed and led astray.
Often corrected, still he sins again. At last he falls into the
hands of Delilah. She is bribed with an enormous sum, and
she endeavors to get from him the secret of his strength. He
foolishly toys with the danger, and plays with his own destruc-
tion. At last, goaded by her importunity, he lets out the
238 SAMSON CONQUERED.
secret which he ought to have confided to no one but himself.
The secret of his strength lay in his locks. Not that his hair
made him strong ; but that his hair was the symbol of his
consecration, and was the pledge of God's favor to him.
While his hair was untouched he was a consecrated man ; as
soon as that was cut away, he was no longer perfectly conse-
crated, and then his strength departed from him. His hair is
cut away ; the locks that covered him once are taken from
him, and there he stands a shaveling, weak as other men.
Now the Philistines begin to oppress him, and his eyes are
burned out with hot iron. How are the mighty fallen ! How
are the great ones taken in the net ! Samson, the great hero
of Israel, is seen with a shuffling gait walking towards Gaza.
A shuffling gait, I said, because he had just received blind-
ness, which was a new thing to him, therefore, he had not as
yet learned to walk as well as those who having been blind
for years, at last learn to set their feet firmly upon the earth.
With his feet bound together with brazen fetters — an unusual
mode of binding a prisoner, but adopted in this case because
Samson was supposed to be still so strong that any other kind
of fetter would have been insufficient — you see him walking
along in the midst of a small escort towards Gaza. And now
he comes to the very city out of which he had walked in all
his pride with the gates and bolts upon his shoulders ; and
the little children come out, the lower orders of the people
come round about him, and jDoint at him — " Samson, the great
hero, hath fallen ! let us make sport of him !" What a spec-
tacle ! The hot sun is beating upon his bare head, which had
once been protected by those luxuriant locks. Look at the
escort who guard him, a mere handful of men, how they
would have fled before him in his brighter days ; but now a
child might overcome him. They take him to a place where
an ass is grinding at a mill:, and Samson must do the same
ignoble work. Why, he must be the sport and jest of every
passer by, and of every fool who shall step in to see this great
wonder — the destroyer of the PhiUstines made to toil at the
mill. Ah, what a fall was there, my brethren ! We might
indeed stand and weep over poor blind Samson. That he
SAMSON CONQTTERED. 239
should have lost his eyes was terrible ; that he should have
lost his strength was worse ; but that he should have lost the
favor of God for a while ; that he should become the sport ot
God's enemies, was the worst of all. Over this indeed we
might weep.
Now, why have I narrated this story? Why should I
direct your attention to Samson? For this reason.. Every
child of God is a consecrated man. His consecration is not
typified by any outward symbol ; we are not commanded to
let our hair grow for ever, nor to abstain from meats or drinks.
The Christian is a consecrated man, but his consecration is
unseen by his fellows, except in the outward deeds which are
the result thereof.
And now I want to speak to you, my dear friends, as con-
secrated men, as Nazarites, and I think I shall find a lesson
for you in the history of Samson. My first point shall be the
strength of the consecrated^ for they are strong men ; secondly,
the secret of their strength ; thirdly, the danger to which they
are exposed j and fourthly, the disgrace which will come upon
them if t/iey fall into this danger.
I. First, THE STRENGTH OF THE CONSECRATED MAN. Do yOU
know that the strongest man in all the world is a consecrated
man ? Even though he may consecrate himself to a wrong
object, yet 'if it be a thorough consecratiou, he will have
strength — strength for evil, it may be, but still strength. In
the old Roman wars with Pyrrhus, you remember an ancient
story of sell-devotion. There was an oracle which said that
victory would attend that army whose leader should give
himself up to death. Decius, the Roman consul, knowing
this, rushed into the thickest of the battle, that his army
might overcome by his dying. The prodigies of valor which
he performed are proofs of the power of consecration. The
Romans at that time seemed to be every man a hero, because
every man was a consecrated man. They went to battle with
this thought — " I will conquer or die ; the name of Rome is
written on my heart ; for my country I am prepared to live,
or for that to shed my blood." And no enemies could ever
stand agaiubt them. If a Roman fell there were no wounds
240 SAMSON CONQUERED.
in his back, but all in his breast. His face, even in cold death,
was like the face of a lion, and when looked upon it was of
terrible aspect. They were men consecrated to their country ;
they were ambitious to make the name of Rome the noblest
word in human language ; and consequently the Roman be-
came a giant. And to this day let a man get a purpose
within him, I care not what his purpose is, and let his whole
soul be absorbed by it, and what will he not do ? You that
are " every thing by turns and nothing long," that have
nothing to live for, soulless carcases that walk this earth and
waste its air, what can you do ? Why nothing. But the man
who knows what he is at, and has his mark, speeds to it
"like an arrow from a bow shot by an archer strong."
Naught can turn him from his design. How much more is
this true if I limit the description to that which is peculiar to
the Christian — consecration to God ! Oh ! what strength
that man has who is dedicated to God ! Is there such an one
here ? I know there is, I know that there be many who have
consecrated themselves to the Lord God of Israel in the secret
of their chamber ; and who can say in their hearts,
" Tis done ; the great transaction's done j
I am my Lord's, and he is mine.
He drew me, and I followed on,
Glad to obey the voice divine."
Now, the man that can say that, and is thoroughly consecrated
to God ; be he who he may or what he may, he is a strong
man, and will work marvels.
ISTeed I tell you of the wonders that have been done by con-
secrated men ? You have read the stories of olden times,
when our religion was hunted like a partridge on the moun-
tains. Did you never hear how consecrated men and women
endured unheard-of pangs and agonies ? Have you not read
how they were cast to the lions, how they were sawn in sun-
der, how they languished in prisons, or met with the swifter
death of the sword ? Have you not heard how they wandered
about in sheep skins and goat skins, destitute, afflicted, tor-
mented, of whom the world was not worthy ? Have you not
SAMSON CONQUERED. 241
heard how they defied tyrants to their face — ho^v, when they
were threatened, they dared most boldly to laugh at all the
threats of the foe — how at the stake they clapped their hands
in the fire, and sang psalms of triumph when men, worse than
fiends, were jeering at their miseries ? How was this ? What
made women stronger than men, and men stronger than an-
gels? Why this — they were consecrated to God. They felt
that every pang wliicli rent their hearts was giving glory to
God, that all the pains they endured in their bodies were but
the marks of the Lord Jesus, whereby they were proven to be
wholly dedicated unto him. Nor in this alone has the power
of the consecrated ones been proved. Have you never heard
liow the sanctified ones have done wonders ? Read the sto-
ries of those who counted not their lives dear unto them, that
they might honor their Lord and Master by preaching his
Word, by telling 'forth the gospel in foreign lands. Have you
not heard how men have left their kindred and their friends,
and all that life held dear — have crossed the stormy sea, and
liave gone intotlie lands of the heathen, where men were de-
vouring one another ? Have you not known how they have
put tlieir loot upon that country, and have seen the ship that
conveyed them there fading away in the distance, and yet
witljout a fear have dwelt amongst the wild savages of the
woods, have walked into the midst of them, and told them the
simple story of the God that loved and died for man ? You
must know how tliose men have conquered, how those, who
seemed to be fiercer than lions, have crouched before them,
have listened to their words, and have been conveited by the
mnjesty of the gospel which they jireached. Wliat made
these men heroes ? What enabled tliem to rend themselves
away from all their kith and kin, and banish themselves into
the land of the stranger ? It was because they were conse-
crated, thoroughly consecrated to the Lord Jesus Christ.
What is tliere in the world which the consecrated man can
not do ? Tempt him ; ofi'er him gold and silver ; carry him
to the mountain top, and show him all the kingdoms of the
world, and tell Liin ho shnll have all these if he will bow down
and worship the god of this world. What saith the conse-
11
242 SAMSON CONQUERED.
crat<3d man ? " Get thee behind me, Satan ; I have more than
all this which thou dost offer me ; this world is mine, and
worlds to come ; I despise the temptation ; I will not bow be-
fore thee." Let men threaten a consecrated man, what does
he say? "I fear God, and therefore I can not fear you ; if
it be right in your sight to obey man rather than God, judge
ye ; but as for me, I will serve none but God." You may,
perhaps, have seen in your life a consecrated man. Is he a
public character ? What can not he do ? He preaches the
gospel, and at once a thousand enemies assail him ; they attack
him on every side ; some for this thing, and some for that ;
his very virtues are distorted into vices, and his slightest faults
are magnified into the greatest crimes. He has scarce a friend ;
the very ministers of the gospel shun him ; he is reckoned to
be so strange that every one must avoid him. What does he
do ? Within the chamber of his own heart he holds confer-
ence with his God, and asks himself this question — am I right ?
Conscience gives the verdict — yes, and the Spirit bears witness
with his spirit that conscience is impartial. "Then," says he,
" come fair, come foul, if I am right — neither to the right
hand nor to the left will I turn." Perhaps he feels in secret
what he will not express in public. He feels the pang of de-
sertion, obloquy, and rebuke ; he cries —
" If on my face, for thy dear name,
Shame and. reproach shall be,
I'll hail reproach, and welcome shame,
If thou'lt remember me."
As for himself in public, none can tell that he careth for any
of these things ; for he can say with Paul — " None of these
things move me, neither count I my life dear unto me that I
may win Christ and finish my course with joy." What can
not a consecrated man do ? I do believe if he had the whole
world against him, he would prove more than a match for
them all. He would say — " Heaps upon heaps, with the jaw-
bone of an ass have I slain my thousand men." I care not
how violent may be his foe ; nor how great may be the advan-
tage which that foe may get of him : though the lion may
SAMSON CONQUERED. 243
have crouched for the spring, and may be leaping upon .him,
yet will he rend him as a kid, for he is more than a conqueror
through him that loved him. He is alone such, who is wholly
consecrated unto the Lord Jesus Christ.
" But," j^ays some one, " can we be consecrated to Christ ?
I thought that was for ministers only." Oh, no, my brethren ;
all God's children must be consecrated men. \Yhat are you ?
Are you engaged in business ? If you are what you profess
to be, your business must be consecrated to God. Perhaps you
have no family whatever, and you are engaged in trade, and
are saving some considerable sum a-year ; let me tell you the
example of a man thoroughly consecrated to God. There lives
in Bristol (name unknown), a man whose income is laige ; and
what does he do with it ? He labors in business continually
that his income may come to him, but of it, every farthing
every year is expended in the Lord's cause except that which
he requires for the necessaries of life. He makes his necessi-
ties as few as possible, that he may have the more to give
away. He is God's man in his business. I do not exhort you
to do the same. You may be in a different position ; but a
man who has a family, and is in business, should be able to
say — " Now, I make so much from my business ; my family
must be provided for — but I seek not to amass riches. I will
make money for God and I will spend it in his cause. Did I
not say, when I joined the church,
" 'All that I am, and all I have,
Shall bo for ever thine ;
"Whate'er my duty bids me give,
My cheerful hands resign ?'
And if I said it, I meant it." I do not understand some Chris-
tian people who sing that hymn, and then pinch, screw, and
nip any thing when it comes to God's cause. If I sing that, I
mean it. I would not sing it unless I did. If I join the church,
I understand that I give myself and all that I have up to that
church ; I woidd not make a lying profession ; I would not
make an avowal of a consecration which I did not mean. If
I have said, " I anoi Ch list's ;" by his grace I will be Christ's.
244 SAMSON COXQTJERED.
Brethren, you in business may be as much consecrated to Christ
as the minister in his pulpit ; you may make your ordinary
transactions in life a solemn service of God. Many a man has
disgraced a cassock, an,d many another has consecrated a smock-
frock ; many a man has defiled Iiis pulpit cushions, and many
another has made a cobbler's lapstone holiness unto the Lord.
Happy the man who is consecrated unto the Lord ; wherever
he is, he is a consecrated man, and he shall do wonders.
It has often been remarked that in this age we are all little
men. A hundred years ago, or more, if we had gone through
the churches, we might have readily found a number of .mhiis-
ters of great note. But now we are all little men, the drivel-
ing sons of nobodies; our names shall never be remembered,
for we do nothing to deserve it. There is scarce a 7nmi alive
now upon this earth ; there are plenty to be found who call
themselves men, but they are the husks of men, the life has
gone from them, the precious kernel seems to have departed.
The littleness of Christians of this age results from the little-
ness of their consecration to Christ. The age of John Owen
was the day of great preachers ; but let me tell you, that that
w^as the age of great consecration. Those great preachers
whose names w^e remember, wxre men who counted nothing
their own ; they were driven out from their benefices, because
they could not conform to the established church, and they
gave up all they had willingly to the Lord. They were hunted
from place to place ; the disgraceful five-mile act w^ould not
permit them to come within five miles of any market tow^i ;
they w^andered here and there to preach the gospel to a few
poor sinners, being fully given up to their Lord. Those were
foul times; but they promised they w^ould walk the road, fair
or foul, and they did walk it knee deep in mud ; and they
would have walked it if it had been knee deep in blood too.
They became great men ; and if we were, as they were, wholly
given up to God — if we could say of ourselves, " From the
crown of my head to the sole of my foot, there is not a drop
of blood that is not wholly God's ; all my time, all my talents,
every thing I have is God's" — if w^e could say that, w^e should
be strong like Samson, for the consecrated must be strong.
SAMSON CONQUERED. 245
II. Now, in the second place, the secret of their strength.
What makes the consecrated raan strong ? Ah ! beloved,
there is no strength in man of himself. Samson without liis
God was but a poor fool indeed. The secret of Samson's
strength was this — as long as he was consecrated he should be
strong ; so long as he was thorouglily devoted to his God, and
had no object but to serve God (and that was to be indicated
by thc-growing of his hair), so long, and no longer, would
God be with hina to help him. And now you see, dear friends,
that if you have any strength to serve God, the secret of your
strength lies in the same place. What strength have you save
in God ? Ah ! I have heard some men talk as if the strength
of free wull, of human nature, was sufficient to carry men to
heaven. Free will has carried many souls to hell, but never a
soul to heaven yet. No strength of nature can suffice to serve
the Lord aright. No man can say that Jesus is the Christ but
by the Holy Ghost. No man can come to Christ except the
Father that hath sent Christ doth draw him. If, then, the
first act of Christian life is beyond all human strength, how
much more are those higher steps far beyond any one of us?
Do we not utter a certain truth when we say in the words of
Scripture, " Not that we are sufficient of ourselves to think
any thing as of ourselves ; but our sufficiency is of God." I
tliink every one who has a really quickened soul will sooner or
later be made to feel this. Ay ! I question whether a man
can be converted a day without finding out his own weakness.
It is but a little space before the child finds that he can stand
alone so long as God his Father takes him by the arras and
teaches him to go, but that if his Father's hand be taken away
he has no power to stand, but down he falls at once. See
Samson without his God, going out against a thousand men.
Would they not laugh at him? and with scarcely time to ex-
press his terror, he would flee, or be rent in pieces. Imagine
In'm without his God, locked up in Gaza, the gates fiist closed.
He goes out into the streets to escape ; but how can he clear
a passage? He is caught like a wild bull in a net ; he may go
round and round the walls, but where shall be his deliverance ?
Without his God ho is but as other men. The secret of his
246 SAMSOX COXQUEEED.
strength lies in his consecration, and in the strength which is
its result. Rem ember, then, the secret of your strength.
Never think that you have any power of your own ; rely
wholly upon the God of Israel ; and remember that the chan-
nel through which that strength must come to you must be
your entire consecration to God.
III. In the third place, What is the peculiar danger of
A CONSECRATED MAN? His danger is that his locks .»raay be
shorn, that is to say, that his consecration may be broken.
As long as he is consecrated he is strong ; break that, he is
weak as w^ater. Now there are a thousand razors with which
the devil can shave off the locks of a consecrated man without
his knowing it. Samson is sound asleep ; so clever is the bar-
ber that he even lulls him to sleep as his fingers move across
the pate, the fool's pate, which he is making bare. The devil
is cleverer far than even the skillful barber ; he can shave the
believer's locks while he scarcely knows it. Shall I tell you
with what razors he can accomplish this w^ork ? Sometimes
he takes the sharp razor of pride, and when the Christian falls
asleep and is not vigilant, he comes with it and begins to run
his fingers upon the Christian's locks and says, " What a fine
fellow you are ! What wonders you have done ! Did n't you
rend that lion finely ? Wasn't it a great feat to smite those
Philistines hip and thigh ? Ah ! you will be talked of as long
as time endures for carrying those gates of Gaza away. You
neofd not be afraid of anybody." And so on goes the razor,
lock after lock falling off, and Samson knows it not. He is
just thinking within himself, " How brave am I ! How^ great
am I!" Thus works the razor of pride — cut, cut, cut away —
and he wakes up to find himself bald, and all his strength
gone. Have you never had that razor upon your head ? I
confess I have on mine. Have you never, after you have been
able to endure afflictions, heard a voice saying to you, "How
patient you were !" After you have cast aside some tempta-
tion, and have been able to keep to the unswerving course of
integrity, has not Satan said to you, "That is a fine thing you
have done ; that w^as bravely done." And all the w^hile you
little knew that it w\as the cunning hand of the evil one taking
SAMSON COXQUERED. 247
away your locks with the sharp razor of pride. For mark,
pride is a breach of our consecration. As soon as I begin to
get proud of what I do, or what I am, what am I proud of?
Why, there is in that pride the act of taking away from God
his glory. For I promised that God should have nil the glory,
and is not that part of my consecration ? and I am taking it
to myself. I have broken ray consecration ; my locks are
gone, and I become weak. Mark this, Christian — God will
never give thee strength to glorify thyself with ; God will give
thee a crown, but not to put on thine own head. As sure as
ever a Christian begins to write his feats and his triumphs
upon his own escutcheon, and take to himself the glory, God
will lay him level with the dust.
Another razor he also uses, is self-sufficiency. " Ah," saith
the devil, as he is shaving away your locks, " you have done a
very great deal. You see they bound you with green withes,
and you snapped them in sunder ; they merely smelt the fire
and they burst. Then they took new ropes to bind you ; ah !
you overcame even them ; for you snapped the ropes in sunder
as if they had been a thread. Then they weaved the seven
locks of your head, but you walked away with loom and web
too, beam and all. You can do any thing, do n't be afraid ;
you have strength enough to do any thing ; you can accom-
plish any feat you set your will upon." How softly the devil
will do all that ; how will he be rubbing the poll while the
razor is moving softly along and the locks are dropping off,
and he is treading them in the dust. " You have done all this,
and you can do any thing else." Every drop of grace distills
from Iieaven. O my brethren, what have we that we liave
not received ? Let us not imagine that we can create might
wherewith to gird ourselves. '*All my springs are in ?Aee."
The moment we begin to think that it is our own arm that has
gotten us the victory, it will be all over with us — our locks of
strength shall be taken away, and the glory shall depart from
us. So, you see, self sufficiency, as well as pride, may be the
razor with which the enemy may shave away our strength.
There is yet another, and a more palpable danger still.
When a consecrated man begins to change his purpose in life
248 SAMSON CONQUEEED.
and live for himself— thpxt razor shaves clean indeed. There
is a minister ; when he first began his ministry he could say,
" God is my witness I have but one object, that I may free
my skirts from the blood of every one of my hearers, that I
may preach the gospel faithfully and honor my Master." In
a little time, tempted by Satan, he changes his tone and talks
like this : " I must keep my congregation up. If I preach such
hard doctrine, they v/on't come. Did not one of the news-
papers criticise me, and did not some of my people go away
from me because of it ? I must mind what I am at. I must
keep this thing going, I must look out a little sharper, and
prune my speech down. I must adopt a little gentler style,
or preach a new-fashioned doctrine ; for I must keep my pop-
ularity up. "What is to become of me if I go down ? People
will say, ' Up like a rocket, down like the stick ;' and then
shall all my enemies laugh." Ah, when once a man begins to
care so much as a snap of the finger about the world, it is all
over with him. If he can go to his pulpit and say, " I have
got a message to deliver; and whether they will hear or whe-
ther they will not hear, I will deliver it as God puts it into
my mouth ; I will not change the dot of an i, or the cross of a
t for the biggest man that lives, or to bring in the mightiest
congregation that ever sat at a minister's feet" — that man is
mighty. He does not let human judgments move him, and
he ^vill move the world. But let him turn aside, and think
about his congregation, and how that shall be kept up ; ah
Samson ! how are thy locks shorn ? What canst thou do
now? That fiilse Delilah has destroyed thee — thine eyes are
put out, thy comfort is taken away, and thy future ministry
shall be like the grinding of an ass around the continually re-
volving mill ; thou shalt have no rest or peace ever afterwards.
Or let him tui-n aside another way. Suppose he should say,
" I must get prefei-raent or wealth, I must look well to myself,
I must see my nest feathered, that must be the object of my life."
I am not now speaking of the ministry merely, but of nil the
consecrated ; and as sure as ever we begin to make ^self the
primary object of our existence our locks are shorn. "Now,"
says the Lord, " I gave that man strength, but not to use it
SAilSON CONQUERED. 249
for himself. Then I put him into a high position, but not that
he miglit clothe himself about with glory ; I put him there
that he might look to my cause, to my interests ; and if he
does not do that first, down he shall go." You remember
Queen Esther: she is exalted from being a simple, humble
maiden, to become the wife of the great monarch — Ahasueius.
Well, Unman gets a decree against her nation, that it shall be
destroyed. Poor Mordecai comes to Esther, and says, " You
must go in to the king and speak to him." " Well," says she,
" but if I do I shall die." "Ah," says he, " if thou altogether
boldest thy peace at this time, then shall there enlargement
and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place ; but
thou and thy father's house shall be destroyed ; and who
knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a
time as this ?" Esther was not made Queen Esther that she
might make herself glorious, but that she might be in a posi-
tion to save the Jews ; and now if she prefers herself before
her country then it is all over with her — Vashti's fate shall be
as nothing compared with her destruction.
And so, if you live in this world, and God prospers you,
you get perhaps into some position, and you say, " Here I am ;
I will look out for myself; I have been serving the church
before, but now I tv'ill look to myself a little.'/ " Come,
come," says human nature, "you must look after your fimily"
(which means, you must look after youiself). Very well, do
it sir, as your main object, and you are a ruined man. " Seek
first the kh)gdom of God and his righteousness, and all these
Bhall be added to you." If you keep your eye single, your
whole body shall be full of light. Though you seemed as if
you Ijad sliut out hnlf the light by having that single eye, yet
your body shall be full of light. But begin to have two
masters, and two objects to serve, and you shall serve neither ;
you shall neither prosper for this world, nor for that which is
to come. Oh, Christian, above all things take care of thy
consecration. Ever feel that thou art wholly given up to God,
and to God alone.
IV, And now, lastly, there is the Christian's disgracb
His locks are cut off. I have seen him, young as I am, and
11*
250 SAMSON CONQUERED.
you with gray hairs upon your brows have seen him oflcner
than I ; I have seen him in the ministry. He spake Uke an
angel of God ; many there were that regarded him, and did
hang upon his lips ; lie seemed to be sound in doctrine and
earnest in manner. I have seen him turn aside ; it was but a
little thing — some slight deviation from the ancient orthodoxy
of his fathers, some slight violation of the law of his church.
I have seen him till he has given up doctrine after doctrine,
until, at last, the very place wherein he preached has become
a bye-word and a proverb ; and the man is pointed out by the
gray-headed sire to his child as a man who is to be looked
upon with suspicion ; who, if he lectures, is to be heard with
caution ; and if he preaches, is not to be listened to at all.
Have you not seen him ? What disgrace was there ! What
a fall ! The man who came out in the camps of Dan, and
seemed to be moved by the Spirit of the Lord, has become
the slave of error. He has gone into the very camps of the
enemy, and there he is now, grinding in the mill for the Phi-
listine, whom he ouglit to have been striking with his arm.
iSTow there are two ways of accounting for this. Such a man
is either a thorough hypocrite or a fallen believer. Some-
times people say of persons who turn aside to sin, "There
now ; look, there is a Christian fallen — a child of God fallen."
It is something like the vulgar, when at night they see a bright
light in the sky, and say, "Ah, there is a star fallen." It was
not a star ; the stars are all right. Take a telescope ; they
are every one there. The Great Bear has not lost a star out
of its tail ; and if you look, there is the belt of Oiion all safe,
and the dagger has not dropped out of it. What is it, then ?
We do not know exactly what it is. Perhaps it may be a few
gases up there for a little while, that have burst, and that is
all ; or some wandering substance cast down, and quite time
that it should be. But the stars are all right. So, depend
upon it, the children of God are always safe. 'Now these men
who have turned aside and broken their consecration vow, are
pointed at as a disgrace to themselves and dishonor to the
church. And you who are members of Christ's church, you
have seen men who stood in your ranks as firm soldiers of the
SAMSON CONQUERED. 251
cross, and you have noticed them go out from us, " because
they were not of us," or like poor Samson, you have seen
them go to their graves with the eyes of their comfort put out,
with the feet of their usefulness bound with brazen fetters,
and with the strength of their anns entirely departed from
them. Now, do any of you wish to be backsliders ? Do you
wish to betray the holy profession of your religion ? My
brethren, is there one among you who this day makes a pro-
fession of love to Christ, who desires to be an apostate ? Is
there one o^f you who desires like Samson to have his eyes put
out, and to be made to grind in the mill ? Would you, like
David, commit a great sin, and go with broken bones to the
grave? Would you, like Lot, be drunken, and fall into lust ?
No, I know what you say, " Lord, let my path be like the
eagle's flight ; let me fly upwards to the sun, and never stay
and never turn aside. Oh, give me grace that I may serve
thee, like Caleb, with a perfect heart, and that from the be-
ginning even to the end of my days, my course may be as the
shining light, which shineth more and more unto the perfect
day." Ay, I know that is your desire. How, then, shall it
be accomplished ? Look well to your consecration ; see that
it is sincere ; see that you mean it, and then look up to the
Holy Spirit, after you have looked to your consecration, and
beg of him to give you daily grace ; for as day by day the
manna fell, so must you receive daily food from on high. And,
remember, it is not by any grace you have in you, but by the
grace that is in Christ, and that must be given to you hour by
hour, that you are to stand, and having done all, to be crowned
at last as a faithful one, who has endured unto the end. I ask
your prayers that I may be kept faithful to my Lord ; and on
the other hand, I will offer my earnest prayers that you may
serve him while he lends you breath, that when your voice is
lost in death, you may, throughout a never ending immoital-
ity, praise him in louder and sweeter strains.
And as for you that have not given yourselves to God, and
are not consecrated to him, I can only speak to you as to
PhiHstines, and warn you, that the day shall come when Israel
shall bo avenged upon the Philistines. You may be one day
252 SAMSON CONQUERED.
assembled ui3on the roof of your pleasures, enjoying yourselves
in health and strength ; but there is a Samson, called Death,
who shall pull down the pillars of your tabernacle, and you
must fall and be destroyed — and great shall be the ruin. May
God give you grace that you may be consecrated to Christ ;
so that living or dying, you may rejoice in him, and may share
with him the glory of his Father.
SEllMON XVI.
LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
" They looked unto him, and ■were lightened : and their faces were not
ashamed." — Psalm xxxiv. 5.
Fbom the connection we are to understand tlie pronoun
" him" as referring to the word " Lord" in the preceding verse.
" They looked unto the Lord Jehovah, and were lightened."
But no man ever yet looked to Jehovah God, as he is in himself,
and found any comfort in him, for " oar God is a consuming
fire." An absolute God, apart from the Lord Jesus Ciirist,
can afford no comfort whatever to a troubled heart. We may
look to him, and we shall be blinded, for the light of Godhead
is insufferable, and as mortal eye can not fix its gaze upon the
sun, no human intellect could ever look unto God, and find
light, for the brightness of God would strike the eye of the
mind with eternal blindness. The only way in which we can
see God is through the Mediator Jesus Christ.
•o"
" Till God in human flesh I see,
My thoughts no comfort find" —
God shrouded and vailed in the manhood — there we can with
steady gaze behold him, for so he cometh down to us, and our
poor finite intelligence can understand and lay hold upon him.
I shall therefore use my text this morning, and I think very
legitimately, in reference to our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ
— "They looked unto A/m, and were lightened ;" for when we
look at God, as revealed in Jesus Christ our Lord, and behold
the Godhead as it is apparent in the incarnate Man, who was
horn of the Virgin Mary, and was crucified by Pontius Pilate,
we do see that which enlightens the mind, and casts rays of
comfort into our awakened heart.
254 LOOKING UXTO JESUS.
And now this morning, I shall first invite yon, in order to
illustrate ray text, to look to Jesus Christ in his life on earth,
and I hope there are some of you who will be lightened by
that. We shall then look to him on his cross. Afterward we
shall look to him in his resurrection. We shall look to him in
his intercession ; and lastly, we shall look to him in his second
coming ; and it may be, as with faithful eye w^e look upon
him, the verse shall be fulfilled in our experience, which is the
best proof of a truth, when we prove it to be true in our own
hearts. We shall " look unto him" and we shall " be light-
ened."
I. First, then, we shall look to the Lord Jesus Cheist in
His LIFE. And here the troubled saint will find the most to
enlighten him. In the example, in the patience, in the suffer-
ings of Jesus Christ, there are stars of glory to cheer the
midnight darkness of the sky of your tribulation. Come
hither, ye children of God, and whatever now are your dis-
tresses, whether they be temporal or spiritual, you shall, in the
life of Jesus Christ and his sufferings, find sufficient to cheer
and comfort you, if the Holy Spirit shall now open your eyes
to look unto him. Perhaps I have among my congregation,
indeed I am sure I have, some wdio are plunged in the depths
of poverty. You are the children of toil ; with much sweat
of your brow you eat your bread ; the heavy yoke of oppres-
sion galls your neck; perhaps at this time you are suffering the
very extremity of hunger ; you are pinched with famine, and
though in the house of God, your body complains, for you feel
that you are brought very low. Look unto him, thou poor
distressed brother in Jesus; look unto him, and be lightened.
" Why dost thou complain of want or distress,
Temptation or pain ? — ^he told thee no less ;
The heirs of salvation, we know from his word,
Through much tribulation must follow their Lord."
See him there ! Forty days he fasts and he hungers. Sue
him again ; he treads the weary way, and at last all athirst he
sits upon the curb of the well of Sychar; and he the Lord of
glory, he who holds the clouds in the hollow of his hand, said
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 256
to a woman, "Give me to drink." And shall the servant be
above his master, and the disciple above his Lord ? If lie suf-
fered hunger, and thirst, and nakedness, O heir of poverty,
be of good cheer ; in all these thou hast fellowship with Jesus ;
therefore be comforted, and look unto him and be lightened.
Perhaps your trouble is of another caste. You have come
here to-day smarting from the forked tongue of that adder —
slander. Your character, though pure and spotless before
God, seems to be lost before man ; for that foul slanderous
thing hath sought to take away that which is dearer to you
than life itself, your character, your good fame ; and you are
this day filled with bitterness and made drunken with worm-
wood, because you have been accused of crimes which your
soul loathes. Come, thou child of mourning, this indeed is a
heavy blow ; poverty is like Solomon's w^hip, but slander fs
like the scorpion of Rehoboam ; to fill into the depths of pov-
erty is to have it on thy little finger, but to be slandered is to
have it on thy loins. But in all this thou mayest have com-
fort from Christ. Come and look unto him and be lightened.
The King of kings was called a Samaritan ; they said of him
that he had a devil and was mad ; and yet infinite wisdom
dwelt in him, though he was charged with madness. And was
he not ever pure and holy ? And did they not call him a
drunken man and a wine-bibber ? He was his Father's glo-
rious Son ; and yet they said he did cast out devils thi ough
Beelzebub the prince of the devils. Come, poor slandered
one ; wipe that tear away ! " If they have called the Master
of the house Beelzebub, how much more shall they call they
of his household ?" If they had honor.ed him, then might
you have expected that they would honor you ; but inasmuch
as they mocked him and took away his glory and his charac-
ter, blush not to bear the reproach and the shame, for ho is
with you, carrying his cross before you, and that cioss was
heavier than yours. Look, then, unto him and be lightened.
But I hear another say, " Ah ! but my trouble is worse than
cither of those. I am not to-day smarting from slandcT, nor
am I burdened with penury ; but, sir, the hand of God lies
heavy upon rae ; he hath brought my sins to ray remembrance ;
250 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
he hath taken away the bright shming of his countenance;
once I did believe in him, and could ' read my title clear to
mansions in the skies,' but to-day I am brought very low ; he
hath lifted me up and cast me down ; like a wrestler, he has
elevated me that he might dash me to the ground with the great-
er force ; my bones are sore vexed, and my spirit within me is
melted with anguish." Come, my tried brother, " Look unto
him and be lightened." No longer groan over thine own
miseries, but come thou with me and look unto him if thou
canst. Seest thou the garden of Olives ? It is a cold night,
and the ground is crisp beneath thy feet, for the frost is hard ;
and there, in the gloom of the olive garden, kneels thy Lord.
Listen to him. Canst thou understand the music of his groans,
the meaning of his sighs ? Sure, thy griefs are not so heavy
as his were, when drops of blood were forced through his
skin, and a bloody sweat did stain the ground ! Say, are thy
wresthngs greater than his ? Ifj then, he had to combat with
the powers of darkness, expect to do so also ; and look thou
to him in the last solemn hour of his extremity, and hear him
say, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" And
when thou hast heard that, murmur not, as though some
strange thing had happened to thee, as if thou hast to join in
his " lama sabbacthani," and hast to sweat some few drops of
his bloody sweat. " They looked unto him, and were light-
ened."
Bat, possibly I may have here some one who is much per-
secuted by man. "Ah!" saith one, "I can not practice my
religion with comfort. My friends have turned against me ; I
am mocked, and jeered, and reviled for Christ's sake." Come,
Christian, be not afraid of all this, but "look unto him, and
be lightened." Remember how they persecuted him. Oh !
think thou of the shame and spitting, the plucking off the
hair, the reviling of the soldiers ; think thou of that fearful
march through the streets, when every man did hoot him, and
when even they that were crucified with him did revile him.
Hast thou been worse treated than he ? Methinks this is
enough to make you gird your armor on once more. Why
need you blush to be as much dishonored as your Master ? It
LOOKIXG UNTO JESUS. 257
was this thought that cheered the martyrs of old. They that
fought the bloody fight, knew they should win the blood-red
crown — that ruby crown of martyrdom ; therefore they did
endure, as seeing him who is invisible ; for this ever cheered
nnd comforted them. They remembered him wlio had " en-
dured such contradiction of sinners against himseUj that they
might not be weary or faint in their minds." They " resisted
unto blood, striving against sin ;" for they knew their Mastei
had done the same, and his example did comfort them. I nm
persuaded, beloved brothers and sisters, that if we looked
more to Christ, our troubles would not become any thing like
so black. In the darkest night, looking to Christ will clear
the ebony sky ; when the darkness seems thick, like that of
Egypt, darkness that might be felt, like solid pillars of ebony,
even then, like a bright .lightning flash, as bright but not as
transient, will a look to Jesus prove. One glimpse at him
may well sufiice for alt our toils while on the road. Cheered
by his voice, nerved by his strength, we are prepared to do
and suiTer, even as he did, to the death, if he will be with us
even unto the end. This, then, is our first point. We trust
that those of you who are weary Christians, will not forget to
"look unto Inm, and be lightened."
II. And now I have to invite you to a more dreary siglit ;
but, strange it is, just as the sight becomes more black, so to
us does it grow more bright. The more deeply the Saviour
dived into the depths of misery, the brighter were the pearls
which he brought up — the greater his griefs, the greater our
joys, and the deeper his dishonor, the brighter our glories.
Come, then — and this time I shall ask poor, doubting, trem-
bling sinners and saints to come with me — come ye now to
Calvary's cross. There, on the summit of that little Iiill, out-
side the gates of Jerusalem, where common criminals were
ordinarily put to death — the Tyburn of Jerusalem, the Old
Bailey of that city, where criminals were executed — tliere
stand three crosses ; the center one is reserved for one who is
reputed to be the greatest of criminals. See there ! They
have nailed him to the cross. It is the Lord of life and glory,
before whose feet angels delight to pour full vials of glory.
258 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
They have nailed him to the cross : he hangs there in mid-
heaven, dying, bleeding; he is thirsty, and he cries. They
bring him vinegar, and thrust it into his mouth. He is in suf-
fering, and he needs sympathy, but they mock at him, and
they say, " He saved othei-s ; himself he can not save." They
misquote his words ; they challenge him now to destroy the
temple, and build it in three days ; while the very thing is
being fulfilled, they taunt him with his powerlessness to ac-
complish it. Now see him, ere the vail is drawn over agonies
too black for eye to behold. See him iiow ! Was ever face
marred like that face ? Was ever heart so big with agony ?
And did ever eyes seem so pregnant with the fire of sufiering,
as those great w^ells of fiery agony ? Come and behold him,
come and look to him now. The sun is eclipsed, refusing to
behold him ! earth quakes; the dead rise ; the horrors of his
sufi*erings have startled earth itself ; •
" He dies 1 the friend of sinners dies ;"
and we invite you to look to this scene that you may be
lightened. What are your doubts this morning ? Whatever
they be, they can find a kind and fond solution here, 'by look-
ing at Christ on the cross. You hav^ come here, perhaps,
doubting God's mercy ; look to Christ upon the cross, and
can you doubt it then ? If God were not full of mercy, and
plenteous in his compassion, would he have given his Son to
bleed and die ? Think you, that a Father would rend his
darling from his heart and nail him to a tree, that he might
suffer an ignominious death for our sakes, and yet be hard,
merciless, and without pity ? God forbid the impious thought !
There must be mercy in the heart of God, or else there had
never been a cross on Calvary.
But do you doubt God's power to save ? Are you saying
in yourself this morning, " How can he forgive so great a sin-
ner as I am?" Oh! look there, sinner, look there, to the grent
atonement made, to the utmost ransom pnid. Dost thou think
that that blood has not an efficacy to pardon and to justify ?
True, without that cross it had been an unanswerable ques-
tion — "How can God be just, and yet the justifier of the un-
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 259
godly ?" But see there the bleeding substitute ! and know
that God has accepted his sufferings as an equivalent for the
woes of all believers; and then let thy spirit dare to think, if
it can, that there is not sufficient in the blood of Christ to en-
able God to vindicate his justice, and yet to have mercy upon
sinners.
But I know you say, " My doubt is not of his general
mercy, nor of liis power to forgive, but of his willingness to
forgive we." Now I beseech you, by him that liveth and was
dead, do not this morning look into your own heart in order
to find an answer to that difficulty ; do not now sit down and
look at your sins ; they have brought you into the danger —
they can not bring you out of it. The best answer you will
ever get, is at the foot of the cross. Sit down, when you get
home this morning, for half an hour, in quiet contemplation ;
sit at the foot of the cross, and contemplate the dying Saviour,
and I will defy you then to say, " I doubt his love to me."
Looking at Christ begets faith. You can not believe on Christ
except as you see him, and if you look to him you will learn
that he is able to save ; you will learn his loving-kindness ; and
you can not doubt him after having once beheld him. Dr.
Watts says,
" His worth, if all the nations knew,
Sure the whole world would love him too ;"
and I am sure it is quite true if I read it another way —
" His worth, if all the nations know.
Sure the whole world would irmt him too."
Oh, that you would look to him now, and your doubts would
soon be removed ; for there is nothing that so speedily kills all
doubt and fear, as a look into the loving eye of the bleeding,
<5ying Lord. "Ah," says one, "but my doubts are concern-
ing my own salvation in this respect ; I can not be so holy as
I want to be." " I liave tried very much," says one, " to get
rid of all my sins, and I can not ; I have labored to live with-
out wicked thoughts, and without unholy acts, and I still find
that my heart is ' deceitful above all things ;' and I wander
260 LOOKIXG UNTO JESUS.
from God. Surely I can not be saved while I am like this."
Stay ! Look to him, and be lightened. What business have
you to be looking to yourself? The first business of a sinner
is not with himself, but with Christ. Your business is to come
to Christ, sick, weary, and soul- diseased, and ask Christ to
cure you. You are not to be your own physician, and then
go to Christ, but just as you are ; the only salvation for you
is to trust imj)licitly, simply, nakedly, on Christ. As I some-
times put it — make Christ the only pillar of your hope, and
never seek to buttress or prop him up. " He is able, he is
willing," All he asks of you is just to trust him. As for your
good works, they shall come afterwards. They are after-fruits
of the Spirit : but jouv first business is not to do, but to be-
lieve. Look to Jesus, and put your only trust in him. " Oh,"
another cries, '' sir, I am afraid I do not feel my need of a
Saviour as I ought." Looking to yourselves again ! all look-
ing to yourselves you see ! This is all wrong. Our doubts
and fears all arise from this cause — we will turn our eyes the
wrong way. Just look to the cross again, just as the poor thief
did when he was dying ; he said, " Lord, remember me when
thou comest into thy kingdom." Do the same. You may
tell him, if you please, that you do not feel your need of him
as you ought; you may put this among your other sins, that
you fear you have not a right sense of your great and enor-
mous guilt. You may add to all your confessions, this cry,
" Lord help me to confess my sins better ; help me to feel them
more penitently." But recollect, it is not your repentance
that saves you ; it is just the blood of Christ, streaming from
his hands, and feet, and side. Oh ! I beseech you by him
whose servant I am, this morning turn your eyes to the cross
of Christ. There he hangs this day ; he is lifted up in your
midst. As Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even
so is tl)e Son of man lifted up to-day in your eyes, that who-
soever believeth in him may not perish, but have everlasting
life.
And you children of God, I turn to you, for you have your
doubts too. Would you get rid of them? Would you re-.
joice in the Lord w^ith faith unmoved and confidence unshaken ?
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 261
Then look to Jesus ; look ngain to biin and you shall be light-
ened. I know not how it is with you, my beloved friends, but
I very often find myself in a doubting frame of mind ; and it
seems to be a question whether I have any love to Christ or
not. And despite the fact that some laugh at the hymn, it is
a hymn that I am forced to sing : —
" 'Tis a point Hong to know,
Oft it causes anxious thought ;
Do I love the Lord or no?
Am I his, or am I not ?"
And really I am convinced that every Christian has his
doubts at times, and that the people who do not doubt nre
just the people that ought to doubt ; for he who never doubts
about his state perhaps may do so when it is too late. I knew
a man who said he never had a doubt for thirty years. I
told him that I knew a person who never had a doubt about
him for thirty years. " How is that ?" said he, " that is
strange." He thought it a compliment. I said, "I knew a
man who never had a doubt about you for thirty years. He
knew you were always the greatest hypocrite he ever met ;
he had no doubt about you." But this man had no doubt
about himself: he was a chosen child of God, a great flivorito
of the ^lost Higii ; he loved the doctrine of election, wrote it
on his very brow ; and yet he was the hardest driver and most
cruel oppressor to the poor I ever met with, and when brought
to poverty himself, he might very frequently be seen rolling
through the streets. And this man had not a doubt for thirty
years; and yet the best people are always doubting. Some
of those who are just livin^jj outside the gates of heaven, are
afjaid of being cast into hell after all ; while those people who
are on the high road to the pit are not the least afraid. How-
ever, if you would get rid of your doubts once more, turn
to Christ. You know what Dr. Carey had put on his tomb-
stone — just these words, for they were his comfort : —
" A guilty, weak, and helpless worm,
Into Christ's arms I fall ;
He i8*my strength and Tightcousneaa,
My Josus and my all"
262 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
Remember what that eminent Scotch divine said, when he
was dying. Some one said to him, "What are you doing
now?" Said he, "I am just gathering all my good works up
together, and I am throwing them all overboard ; and I am
lashing myself to the plank of free grace, and I hope to swim
to glory on it." So do you do ; every day keep your eye only
on Christ ; and so long as your eye is single, your whole body
must and shall be full of light. But if you once look cross-
eyed, first to yourself and then to Christ, your whole body
shall be full of darkness. Remember, then, Christian, to hie
awa}- to the cross. When that great black dog of hell is
after you, away to the crossT Go \\'here the sheep goes when
he is molested by the dog; go to the shepherd. The dog is
afraid of the shepheid's crook ; you need not be afraid of it,
it is one of the things that shall comfort you. " Thy rod
and thy staff they comfort me." Away to the cross, my
brother! away to the cross, if thou wouldst get rid of thy
doubts. Certain I am, that if we lived more with Jesus,
were more like Jesus, and trusted more to Jesus, doubts and
fears would be very scarce and rare things, and we should
have as little to complain of them as the first emigrants to
Australia had to complain of thistles ; for they found none
there, and none would have been there if they had not been
carried there. If we live simply by faith on the cross of Christ,
we live in a land where there are no thistles; but if we will
live on self, we shall have plenty of thistles and thorns, and
briars and nettles growing there. "'They looked unto him,
and were lightened."
III. And now I invite you to a glorious scene — Ciikist's
KESUKRECTioN. Come you here, and look at him as the old
serpent bruises his heel !
*' He dies I the friend of sinners dies,
And Salem's daughters weep around."
lie was wrapped in his grave-clothes and put into his grave,
and there he slept three days and nights. And on the first
day of the week, he, who could not be holden by the bands
of death, and whose flesh did not see corruption, neither did
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 263
his soul abide in Hades — he arose from the dead. In vain the
bands that swaddled him ; he unfolded them by himself, and
by his own living power wrapped them in perfect order, and
laid them in their pb.ce. In vain the stone and the seal ; the
angel appeared and rolled away the stone, and forth the
Saviour came. In vain the guards and watchmen ; for in
terror they fled far away, and he rose the conqueror over
death — the first-fruits of them that slept. By his own power
and might, he came again to life. I see among my congrega-
tion not a few wearing the black weeds of sorrow^ You
have lost, some of you, the dearest of your earthly relatives.
There are others here, who, I doubt not, are under the con-
stant fear of death. You are all your lifetime subject to
bondage, because you are thinking upon the groans and dying
strife which fall upon men w^hen they near the river Jordan.
Come, come, I beseech you, ye weeping and timid spirits, be-
hold Jesus Christ risen ! For remember this is a great truth
— "Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the first-
fruits of them that slept." And the verse of our song just
embodies it : —
" "What though our inbred sins require
Our flesh to see the dust,
Yet as the Lord our Saviour rose,
So all his followers must."
There, widow, weep no longer for your husband, if he died
in Jesus. See the Master ; he is risen from the dead ; no spec-
ter is he. In the presence of his disciples he eats a piece of
broiled fish and part of a honeycomb. No spirit is he ; for
he saith, "Handle me and see; a spirit hath not flesh and
blood as ye see me have." That was a real resurrection. And
learn, then, beloved, when you weep, to restrain your sorrows ;
for thy loved ones shall live again. Not only shall their spir-
its live, but their bodies too.
" Corruption, earth, and worms,
Do but refine this flesh ;
At the archangel's sounding trump,
Wo put it on afresh."
264 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
Oh ! think not that the worm has eaten up your children, your
friends, your husband, your father, your aged parents — true,
the worms seem to have devoured them. Oh! what is the
worm after all, but the filter through which our poor filthy
flesh must go? For in the twinkling of an eye, at the last
trump, we shall be raised incorruptible, and the living shall
be changed; you shall see the eye that just now has been
closed, and you shall look on it again ; you shall again grasp
the hand that just now fell motionless at the side ; you shall
kiss the lips that just now were clay-cold, and white, and you
shall hear again the voice that is silent in the tomb. They
shall live again. And you that fear death — why fear to die ?
Jesus died before you, and he passed through the iron gates,
and as he passed through them before you, he will come and
meet you. Jesus who lives can
" Make the dying bed
Feel soft as downy pillows are."
Why should you weep ? for Jesus rose from the dead ; so shall
you. Be of good cheer and confidence. You are not lost
when you are put into the tomb ; you are but seed sown to
ripen against the eternal harvest. Your spirit mounts to
God ; your body slumbers for awhile to be quickened into
eternal life ; it can not be quickened except it die ; but when
it dies it shall receive a new life ; it shall not be destroyed.
"They looked to him, aiid were lightened." Oh! this is a
precious thing to look to — a risen Saviour. I know of nothing
that can lift our spirits higher than a true view of the resur-
rection of Jesils Christ from the dead. We have not lost
any friends then ; they have gone before. We shall not die
ourselves ; we shall seem to die, but we shall begin to live ;
for it is written,
"He lives to die; he dies to live;
He lives to die no more."
May that be the lot of each one of us !
ly. And with the greatest possible brevity, I invite you to
LOOK AT Jesus Ciikist ascending into heaven. After forty
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 265
days, he takes his disciples to the hill, and while he discourses
with them, on a sudden he mounts upward ; and he is sepa-
rated from them, and a cloud receives him into glory. Per-
haps I may be allowed a little poetical license if I try to
picture that which occurred after he ascended into the clouds.
The angels came from heaven —
" They brought his chariot from oa high
To bear hira to his throne ;
Clapped their triumphant wings and cried,
The glorious work is done."
I doubt not, that with matchless triumph he ascended the hill
of light and went to the celestial city, and when he neared
the portals of that great metropolis of the universe, the angels
shouted, "Lift up your heads, O ye gates ; and be ye lift up
ye everlasting doors," and the bright spirits, from burning
battlements, cried out, " Who is this King of Glory — who ?"
And the answer came, " The Lord mighty in battle, and the
Lord of Hosts ; he is the King of Glory." And then both
they upon the walls, and they who walk with the chariot join
the song once more, and with one mighty sea of music, beat-
ing its melodious waves against the gates of heaven and forc-
ing them open, the strain is heard, " Lift up your heads, O ye
gates, and be ye lift up ye everlasting doors, that the King
of Glory may come in" — and in he went. And at his feet the
angelic hosts all cast their crowns, and forth came the blood
washed and met him, not casting roses at his feet, as we do at
the feet of conquerors in our streets, but casting immortal
flowers, imperishable wreaths of honor that never can de-
cay ; while again, again, again, the heavens did ring with tliis
melody, "Unto him that hath loved us, and washed us from
our sins in his blood, and hath made us kings and priests unto
God and his Father — unto him be glory for ever and ever."
And all the saints and all the angels said, " Amen." Now
look ye here. Christian, here is your comfort ; Jesus Christ
won the victory, and he ascended to his throne of glory.
You arc fighting to-day, and wrestling with spiritual enemies,
not with flesh and blood, but with principalities and powers ;
12
266 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
you are at war to-day, and mayhap the enemy has thrust sore
at you, and you have been ready to fall ; it is a marvel to you
that you have not turned your back in the day of battle, for
you have often feared lest you should be made to fly like a
coward from the field. But tremble not, your Master was
more than conqueror, and so shall you be. The day is coming
when with splendor less than liis, but yet the same in its meas-
ure, you too shall pass the gates of bliss ; when you are dying,
angels shall meet you in the mid-stream, and when your blood
is cooling with the cold current, then sliall your heart be
warming with another stream, a stream of light and heat from
the great fountain of all joy, and you shall stand on the other
side of Jordan, and angels shall meet you clothed in their im-
maculate garments; they shall attend you up the hill of light,
and they shall chant the praise of Jesus, and hail you as an-
other trophy of his power. And when you enter the gates
of heaven, you shall be met by Christ your Master, who
will say to you — *' Well done, good and faithful servant, enter
thou into the joy of thy Lord." Then will you feel that you
are sharing in his victoi-y, as once you shared in his struggles
and his war. Fight on, Christian, your glorious Captain has
won a great victory, and has secured for you in one and the
same victory, a standard that never yet was stained with de-
feat, though often dipped in the blood of the slain.
V. And now once more, " Look unto him, and be light-
ened." See there, he sits in heaven ; he has led captivity cap-
tive, and now sits at the right hand of God, for ever making
intercession for us. Can your faith picture him to-day ? Like
a great high priest of old, he stands with outstretched arms :
there is majesty in his mien, for he is no mean, cringing sup-
pliant. He does not beat his breast, nor cast his eyes on the
ground, but with authority he pleads, enthroned in glory now.
There on his head is the bright, shining miter of his priesthood,
and look you, on his breast are glittering the precious stones
whereon the names of his elect are everlastingly engraven ;
hear him as he pleads,. hear you not what it is? — is that your
prayer that he is mentioning before the throne ? The prayer
that this morning you offered ere you came to the house of
LOOKING U:NT0 JESUS. 267
God, Christ is now offering before his Father's throne. The
vow which just now you uttered when you said, " Have pity
and have mercy" — he is now uttering there. He is the Altar
and the Priest, and with his own sacrifice he perfumes our
prayers. And yet, mayhap you have been at prayer many a
day, and had no answer; poor, weeping suppliant, thou liast
sought the Lord and he hath not heard thee, or at least not
answered thee to thy soul's delight ; thou hast cried unto him,
but the heavens have been as brass, and he hath shut out thy
prayer ; thou art full of darkness and lieaviness on account of
this : "Look to him, and be lightened." If thou dost not suc-
ceed, he will; if thy intercession be unnoticed, his can not be
passed away ; if thy prayers can be like w^ater spilt on a rock
wliich can not be gathered uj), yet his prayers are not like
that ; he is God's Son, he pleads and must prevail ; God can
not refuse his own Son what he now asks, he who once bought
mercies with his blood. Oh ! be of good cheer, continue still
thy supplication. "Look unto him, and be lightened."
VI. In the last place, there are some of you here, weary
with this world's din and clamor, and with this world's in-
iquity and vice. You have been striving all your life long, to
put an end to the reign of sin, and it seems as if your efforts
have been fruitless; the pillars of hell stand as last as ever,
. nd the black palace of evil is not laid in ruins; you have
brought against it all the battering rams of prayer, and all the
iniglit of God, you have thought — and yet the world still
sins, its rivers still roll with blood, its plains are still defiled
witii the lascivious dance, and its ear is still polluted with the
filthy song and profane oath. God is not honored ; man is
still vile ; and perhaps you are saying, " It is vain for us to
fight on, we have undertaken a task which can not be accom-
plished ; the kingdoms of this world never can become the
kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ." But, Christian,
"Look unto him, and be lightened." Lo ! he cometh, he
cometh, l)e cometh quickly ; and what we can not do in six
thousand years, he can do in an instant. Lo ! he comes, he
comes to reign ; we mjiy try to build his throne, but we shall
not accomplish it. But when lie comes, he shall build his
268 LOOKING UNTO JESUS.
throne himself, on solid pillars of ligbt, and sit and judge in
Jerusalem, amidst his saints, gloriously. Perhaps to-day, the
hour we are assembled, Christ may come — "For of that day
and hour knoweth no man ; no, not the angels in heaven."
Christ Jesus may, while I yet speak, appear in the clouds of
glory. We have no reason to be guessing at the time of his
appearing ; he will come as the thief in the night ; and wheth-
er it shall be at cock-crowing, or broad day, or at midnight,
we are not allowed to guess ; it is left entirely in the dark,
and vain are the prophecies of men, vain your " Apocalyptic
Sketches," or aught of that. JSTo man knoweth any thing of
it, except that it is certain he will come; but when he comes,
no spirit in heaven or on earth should pretend to know. Oh !
it is my joyous hope that he may come whilst yet I live.
Perhaps there may be some of us here who shall be alive, and
remain at the cogiing of the Son of man. Oh, glorious hope !
we shall have to sleep, but we shall all be changed. He may
come now, and we that are alive and remain shall be caught
up together with the Lord in the air, and so shall be for ever
with him. But if you die. Christian, this is your hope. " I will
come again, and receive you to myself, that where I am, there
ye may be also." And this is to be your duty, " Watch,
therefore, for in such an hour as ye think not, the Son of man
cometh." Oh, will I not work on, for Christ is at the door !
Oh ! I will not give up toiling never so hard, for my Master
cometh, and his reward is with him, and his work before him,
giving unto every man according as his work shall be. Oh,
I will not lie down in despair, for the trump is sounding now.
Methinks I hear the trampling of the conquering legion ; the
last of God's mighty heroes are even now, perhaps, born into
the world. The hour of this revival is the hour of turning to
the battle ; thick has been the fight, and' hot and furious the
struggle, but the trump of the conqueror is beginning to
sound, the angel is lifting it now to his lips. The first blast
has been heard across the sea, and we shall hear it yet again ;
or if we hear it not in these our days, yet still it is our hope.
He comes, he comes, and every eye shall see him, and they
that have crucified him shall weep and wail before him, but
LOOKING UNTO JESUS. 269
the righteous shall rejoice, and shall magnify him exceedingly.
" They looked unto him, and were lightened."
I remember I concluded preaching at Exeter Hall with these
three words, " Jesus, Jesus, Jesus !" and I think I will con-
clude my sermon of this morning with the same words, but
not till I have spoken to one poor, forlorn soul who is stand-
ing over there, wondering whether there is mercy for him.
He says, " It is well enough, sir, to say, * Look to Jesus ;' but
suppose you can not look? If your eye is blind — what then ?"
Oh ! ray poor brother, turn your restless eyeballs to the cross,
and that light which gives light to them that see, shall give
eyesight to them that are blind. Oh ! if thou canst not be-
lieve this morning, look and consider, and weigh the matter,
and in w^eighing and reflecting thou shalt be helped to believe.
He asks nothing of thee ; be bids thee now believe that he
died for thee. If to-day thou feelest thyself a lost, guilty sin-
ner, all he asks is that thou w^ouldst believe on him ; that is to
say, trust him, confide in him. Is it not little he asks? And
yet it is more than any of us are prepared to give, except the
Spirit hath made us willing. Come, cast yourselves upon
him ; fall flat on his promise ; sink or swim, confide in him, and
you can not guess the joy that you shall feel in that one instant
that you believe on him. Were there not some of you im-
pressed last Sabbath day, and you have been anxious all the
week ? Oh ! I hope I have brought a good message to you
this morning for your comfort. *'Look unto me and be yo
saved, all the ends of the earth," saith Christ, " for I am God,
and beside rae there is none else." Look ye now, and looking
yc shall live. May every blessing rest upon you, and may
each go away to think of that one person whom we love, even
Jesus — Jesus — Jesus !
SERMON XYII.
SATAN'S BANQUET.
" The governor of the feast called the bridegroom, and saith unto him,
every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine ; and when men have
well drunk, then that which is worse ; but thou hast kept the good wine un-
tU now."— John, ii. 9, 10.
The governor of the feast said more than he intended to
say, or rather, tliere is more truth in what he said than he
himself imagined. This is the established rule all the world
over : " the good wine first, and when men have well drunk,
then that which is worse." It is the rule with men ; and have
not hundreds of disappointed hearts bewailed it ? Friendship
first — the oily tongue, the words softer than butter, and after-
wards the drawn sword. Ahithophel first presents the lordly
dish of love and kindness to David, then afterwards that which
is worse, for he forsakes his master, and becomes the counselor
of his rebel son. Judas presents first of all the dish of fair
speech and of kindness ; the Saviour partook thereof, he walked
to the house of God in company with him, and took sweet
counsel with him ; but afterwards there came the dregs of the
wine — " He that eateth bread with me hath lifted up his heel
against me." Judas the thief betrayed his Master, bringing
forth afterwards " that which is worse." Ye have found it so
with many whom ye thought your friends. In the heydey of
prosperity, when the sun was shining, and the birds were sing-
ing, and all was fair and gay and cheerful with you, they brought
forth the good wine ; but there came a chilhng frost, and
nipped your flowers, and the leaves fell from the trees, and
your streams were frosted with the ice, and then they brought
forth that which is worse — they forsook you and fled ; they
left you in your hour of peril, and taught you that great truth,
SATAN'S BANQUET. 271
that " cursed is he that trustelh in man, and maketh flesh his
arm." And this is the way all the world over — I say it once
again — not merely with men, but with nature too.
" Alas, for us, if thou 'wert all,
And naught beyond, earth ;"
for doth not this world serve us just the same ? In our youth
it brings forth the best wine ; then we have the sparkling eye,
and the ear attuned to music ; then the blood flows swiftly
through the veins and the pulse beats joyously ; but wait a
little and there shall come forth afterwards tliat which is worse,
for the keepers of the house shall tremble, and the strong men
shall bow themselves ; the grinders shall fail because they are
few, they that look out of the windows shall be darkened, all
the daughters of music shall be brought low ; then shall the
strong man totter, the grasshopper shall be a burden, and de-
sire shall fail, the mourners shall go about the streets. First
there is the flowing cup of youth, and afterwards the stagnant
waters of old age, unless God shall cast into those dregs a
fresh flood of his loving-kindness and tender mercy, so that
'once ngain, as it always happeneth to the Christian, the cup
sliall run over, and again sparkle with delight. O Christian,
trust not thou in men ; rely not thou upon the things of this
present time, for this is evermore the rule with men and with
the world — " the good wine first, and when ye have well
drunken, then that which is worse."
This morning, however, I am about to introduce you to two
houses of feasting. First, I shall bid you look within the doors
of the devil's houses and you will find he is ti ue to this rule ;
he brings forth first the good wine, and when men have well
dnuik, and their brains are muddled therewith, then he bring-
eth fortli that which is worse. Having bidden you look there
and tremble, and take heed to the warning, I shall then attempt
to enter with you into the banqueting/ house of our beloved
Lord and Master Jesus Christy and of him we shall be able
to say, as the governor of the feast said to the bridegroom,
" Thou hast kept the good wine until now ;" thy feasts grow
better, and not worse : thy wines grow richer, thy viands are
272 SATAN'S BANQUET.
daintier far, and thy gifts more precious than before. *' Thou
hast kept the good wine until now."
I. First, we are to take a warning glance at the house op
FEASTING WHICH Satan HATH BuiLDED : for as wisdoHi hath
build ed her house, and hewn out her seven pillars, so hath folly-
its temple and its tavern of feasting, into which it continually
tempts the unwary. Look within the banqueting house, and
I will show you four tables and the guests that sit thereat ;
and as you look at those tables you shall see the courses brought
in. You shall see the wine cups brought, and you shall see
them vanish one after another, and you shall mark that the
rule holds good at all four tables — first the good wine, and
afterwards that which is worse — yea, I shall go further — after-
wards, that which is worst of all.
1. At the first table to which I shall invite your attention,
though I beseech you never to sit dowm and drink thereat, sit
the PKOFLiGATE. The table of the j^rofligate is a gay table ; it is
covered over with a gaudy crimson, and all the vessels upon it
look exceedingly bright and glistening. Many there be that sit
thereat ; but they know not that they are the guests of hell, and
that the end of all the feast shall be in the depths of perdition.
See ye now the great governor of the feast, as he comes in ?
He has a bland smile upon his face ; his garments are not
black, but he is girded with a robe of many colors ; he hath a
honied word on his lip, and a tempting witchery in the sparkle
of his eye. He brings in the cup, and says, " Hey, young
man, drink hereat, it sparkleth in the cup, it moveth itself
aright. Do you see it ? It is the wine cup of pleasure.''''
This is the first cup at the banqueting house of Satan. The
young man takes it, and sips the liquor. At first it is a cau-
tious sip ; it is but a little he will take, and then he wull restrain
himself. He does not intend to indulge much in lust, he means
not to plunge headlong into perdition. There is a flower there
on the edge of that clifiT: he will reach forward a little and
pluck it, but it is not his intention to dash himself from that
beetling crag and destroy himself Not he ! He thinks it
easy to put away the cup when he has tested its flavor ! He
has no design to abandon himself to its intoxication. He
SATAN'S BANQUET. 273
takes a shallow draught. But O how sweet it is ! How it
makes his blood tingle within him. What a fool I was, not to
have tasted this before ! he thinks. Was ever joy like this ?
Could it be thought that bodies could be capable of such ec-
stasy as this ? He drinks again ; this time he takes a deeper
draught, and the wine is hot in his veins. Oh ! how blest is
he ! What would he not say now in the praise of Bacchup,
or Yenus, or whatever shape Beelzebub chooses to assume ?
He •becomes a very orator in praise of sin. It is fair, it is
pleasant — the deep damnation of lust appeareth as joyous as
the transports of heaven. He drinks, he drinks, he drinks
again, till his brain begins to reel with the intoxication of his
sinful delight. This is the first course. Drink, O ye drunk-
ards of Ephraim, and bind the crown of pride about your
head, and call us fools because we put your cu]) from us ; drink
with the harlot and sup with the lustful ; ye may think your-
selves wise for so doing, but we know that after these things
there cometh something worse, for your vine is the vine of
Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah ; your grapes are grapes
of gall, the clusters are bitter ; your wine is the poison of
dragons and the cruel venom of asps.
Now with a leer upon his brow, the subtle governor of the
feast riseth from his seat. His victim has had enough of the
best wine. He takes away that cup, and he brings in another,
not quite so sparkling. Look into the liquor; it is not beaded
over with sparkling bubbles of rapture ; it is all flat, and dull
and insipid ; it is called the cup of satiety. The man has had
enough of pleasure, and like a dog he vomits, though hke a
dog he will return to his vomit yet again. Who hath woe ?
Who hath redness of eyes ? They that tarry long at the wine.
I am now speaking figuratively of wine, as well as literally.
The wine of Inst bringeth the same redness of the eyes ; the
profligate soon discovers that all the rounds of pleasure end in
satiety. " What," says he, " what more can I do ? There !
I have committed every wickedness that cnn be imagined, and
I have drained every cup of pleasure. Give me something
fresh ! I have tried the theaters all round : there ! I do n't
care so much as one single iarthing for them all. I have gone
12*
274
to every kind of pleasure that I can conceive. It is all over.
Gayety itself grows flat and dull. What am I to do ?" And
this is the devil's second course — the course of satiety — a fitful
drowsiness, the result of the previous excess. Thousands there
are who are drinking of the tasteless cup of satiety every day,
and some novel invention whereby they may kill time, some
new discovery whereby they may give a fresh vent to their
iniquity would be a w^onderful thing to them ; and if some man
should rise up who could find out for them some new fashion
of wickedness, some deeper depths in the deeps of the neth-
ermost hell of lasciviousness, they would bless his name for
having given them something fresh to excite them. That is
the devil's second course. And do you see them partaking of
it ? There are some of you that are having a deep draught
of it this morning. You are the jaded horses of the fiend of
lust, the disappointed followers of the w^ill-o'-the-wisp of pleas-
ure. God knows, if you w^ere to speak your heart out you
would be obliged to say, " There ! I have tried pleasure, and
I do not find it pleasure ; I have gone the round, and I am
just like the blind horse at the mill, I have to go round again.
I am spell-bound to the sin, but I can not take delight in it
now as I once did, for all the glory of it is as a fading flower,
and as the hasty fruit before the summer.
Awhile the feaster remains in the putrid sea of his infatua-
tion, but another scene is opening. The governor of the feast
commandeth another liquor to be broached. This time the
fiend bears a black goblet, and he presents it with eyes full
of hell-fire, flashing with fierce damnation. " Drink of that,
sir," says he, and the man sips it and starts back and shrieks,
" O God ! that ever I must come to this !" You must drink,
sir ! He that quaffs the first cup, must drink the second, and
the third. Drink, though it be like fire down your throat !
Drink it, though, it be as the lava of Etna in your bowels!
Drink ! you must drink ! He that sins must suffer ; he that
is a profligate in his youth must have rottenness in his bones,
and disease within his loins. He who rebels against the laws
of God, must reap the harvest in his own body here. Oh !
there are some dreadful things that I might tell you of this
SATAN'S BANQUET. 276
third course. Satan's liouse has a front chamber full of every-
thing that is enticing to the eye and bewitching to the sensual
taste ; but there is a back chamber, and no one knoweth, no
one hath seen the whole of its horrors. There is a secret
chamber, where he shovels out the creiitures whom he hath
himself destroyed — a chamber, beneath wliosc floor is the
blazing of hell, and above whose boards the heat of that hor-
rible pit is felt. It may be a physician's place rather than
mine, to tell of the horrors that some have to suffer as the re-
sult of their iniquity. I leave that ; but let me tell the profli-
gate spendthrift that the poverty which he will endure is the
result of his sin of extravagant spendthriftcy ; let him know,
also, that the remorse of conscience that will overtake him is
not an accidental thing that drops by chance from heaven — it
is the result of his own iniquity; for, depend upon it, men and
brethren, sin carries an infant misery in its bowels, and sooner
or later it must be delivered of its terrible child. If we sow
the seed we must reap the harvest. Thus the law of hell's
house stands — " first, the good wine, then, afterwards, that
which is worse."
The last course remains to be presented. And now, ye
strong men who mock at the warning, which I would fain de-
liver to you with a brother's voice and with an affectionate
heart, though with rough language ; come ye here, and drink
of this last cup. The sinner has at the end brought himself
to the grave. His hopes and joys were like gold put into a
bag full of holes, and they have all vanished — vanished for
ever ; and now he has come to the last, his sins haunt him, his
transgressions perplex him ; he is taken like a bull in a net,
and how shall he escape ? He dies, and descends from disease
to damnation. Shall mortal language attempt to tell you the
hoiTors of that last tremendous cup of which the profligate
must drink, and drink for ever ? Look at it : ye can not see
its depths, but cast an eye upon its seething surface ; I hear the
noise of rusliing to and fro, and a sound as of gnashing of teeth
and the waiHng of despairing souls. I look into that cup, and
I hear a voice coming up from its depths — " These shall go
away into everlasting punishment j" for " Tophet is prepared
276 SATAN'S BANQUET.
of old, the pile thereof is wood and much smoke, the breath
of the Lord, like a stream of brimstone, shall kindle it." And
what say ye to this last course of Satan ? " Who among us
sliall dwell with the devouring fire ? Who among us shall
dwell with everlasting burnings ?" Profligate ! I beseech thee,
in the name of God, start from this table ! Oh, be not so care-
less at thy cups ; be not so asleep, secure in the peace which
thou now enjoyest ! Man ! death is at the door, and at his
heels is swift destruction. As for you, who as yet have been re-
strained by a careful ikther and the watchfulness of an anxious
mother, I beseech you shun the house of sin and folly. Let
the wise man's words be written on thine heart, and be thou
mindful of them in the hour of temptation—" Remove thy
way far from her, and come not nigh the door of her house :
for the lips of a strange woman drop as an honeycomb, and
her mouth is smoother than oil : but her end is bitter as worm-
wood, sharp as a two-edged sword. Her feet go down to
death ; her steps take hold on hell."
IL Do ye see that other table yonder in the middle of the
palace ? Ah ! good easy souls ! Many of you had thought
that you never went to the feast of hell at all ; but there is a
table for you too ; it is covered over with a fair white cloth,
and all the vessels upon the table are most clean and comely.
The wine looks not like the wine of Gomorrah, it moveth
aiiglit, like the wine from the grapes of Eshcol ; it seems to
have no intoxication in it ; it is like the ancient wine which
tliey pressed from the gra^^e into the cup, having in if no
deadly poison. Do ye see the men who sit ;it this table ?
How self contented they are ! Ask the white fiends who wait
at it, and they will tell you, " This is the table of the self-
righteous : the Pharisee sits there. You may know him ; he
has his phylactery between his eyes ; the hem of his garment
is exceeding broad, lie is one of the best of the best profes-
sors. "Ah !" saith Satan, as he draws the curtain and shuts
off the table where the profligates are carousing, " be quiet ;
do nH make too much noise, lest these sanctimonious hypocrites
should guess what company they are in. Those self righteous
people are ray guest?* quite as much as you, and I have them
SATAN'S BANQUET. 217
quite as safely." So Satan, like an angel of light, brings forth
a gilded goblet, looking like the chalice of the table of com-
munion. And what wine is that ? It seems to be the very
wine of the sacred Eucharist ; it is called the wine of self-
satisfaction, and around the brim you may see the bubbles of
pride. Look at the swelling froth upon the bowl — " God, I
thank thee,xthat I am not as other men are, extortioners, un-
just, adulterers, or even as this publican." You know that
cup, my self-deceiving hearers ; oh that ye knew the deadly
hemlock which is mixed therein. "Sin as other men do?
Not you ; not at all. You are not going to submit yourself ^
to the righteousness of Christ : what need you ? You are as
good as your neighbors ; if you are not saved, you ought to
be, you think. Do n't you pay everybody twenty-shillings in
the pound ? Did you ever rob anybody in your life ? You
do your neighbors a good turn ; you are as good as other
people." Very good ! That is the first cup the devil gives,
and the good wine makes you swell with self-important dig-
nity, as its fumes enter your heart and puff it up witii an ac-
cursed pride. Yes ! I see you sitting in the room so cleanly
swept and so neatly garnished, and I see the crowds of your
admirers standing around the table, even many of God's own
children, who say, " Oh that I were half so good as he."
"While the very humility of the righteous provides you with
provender for your pride. Wait awhile, thou unctuous hypo-
crite, w^iit awhile, for there is a second course to come. Satan
looks with quite as self satisfied an air upon his guests this
time as he did upon the troop of rioters. " Ah !" says he, " I
cheated those gay fellows with the cup of pleasure — I gave
them, afterwards, the dull cup of satiety, and I have cheated
you, too ; you think yourselves all right, but I have deceived
you twice, I have befooled you indeed." So ho brings in a
cup which, sometimes, he himself doth not like to serve. It
is called the cup of discontent and unquietness of mind, and
many there be that have to drink this after all their self-satisfac-
tion. Do you not find, you that are very good in your own
esteem, but have no interest in Christ, that when you sit alone
and begin to turn over yoin* accounts for eternity, that they
2T8 SATAN'S BANQUET.
do not square, somehow — that you can not strike the balance
exactly to your own side after all, as you thought you could ?
Have not you sometimes found, that when you thought you
were standing on a rock, there was a quivering beneath your
feet ? You heard the Christian sing boldly —
" Bold shall I stand in that great day,
For who aught to my charge shall lay ?
While, through thy blood, absolved I am
• From sin's tremendous curse and shame."
And you have said, " Well, I can not sing that. I have been
as good a churchman as ever lived, I never missed going
to my church all these years, but I can not say I have a solid
confidence." You had once a hope of self-satisfaction; but
now the second course has come in, and you are not quite
so contented. " Well," says another, " I have been to my
church, and I have been baptized, and made a profession of
religion, though I was never brought to know the Lord in
sinceiity and in truth, and I once thought it was all well with
me, but I want a something which I can not find." Now
comes a shaking in the heart. It is not quite so delightful as
one supposed, to build on one's own righteousness. Ah ! that
is the second course. Wait awhile, and mayhap in this world,
but certainly in the hour of death, the devil will bring in the
third cup of dismay at the discovery of your lost condition.
How many a man, who has been self-righteous all his life, has,
at the last, discovered that the thing whereon he had placed
his hope had failed him. I have heard of an army, who, being
defeated in battle, endeavored to make good a retreat. With
all their might the soldiers fled to a certain river, where they
expected to €nd a bridge across which they could retreat and
be in safety. But when they came to the stream, there was
heard a shriek of terror — " The bridge is broken, the bridge
is broken !" All in vain was that cry ; for the multitude hur-
rying on behind, pressed upon those that were before and
forced them into the river, until the stream was glutted with
the bodies of drowned men. Such must be the fate of the
self-righteous. You thought there was a bridge of cere-
SATA^''S BANQUET. 279
monies ; that baptism, confirmation, and the Lord's Supper
made up the solid arches of a bridge of good works and duties.
But when you come to die, tliere shall be heard the cry — '• The
bridge is broken, the bridge is broken !" It will be in vain
for you to turn round then. Death is close behind you ;
he forces you onward, and you discover what it is to perish,
through having neglected the great salvation, and attempting
to save yourself through your own good works. This is the
la:st course but one ; and your last course of all, the worst
wine, your everlasting portion, must be the same as that of
the profligate. Good as you thought yourself to be, inasmuch
as you proudly rejected Christ, you must drink the wine-cup
of the wrath of God ; that cup which is full of trembling.
The wicked of the earth shall wring out the dregs of that
cup, and drink them ; and you also must drink of it as deep
as they. Oh, beware in time ! Put away your high looks,
and humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God.
Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and ye shall be saved. '
3. Some of you have as yet escaped the lash, but there is a
third table crowded with most honorable guests. I believe
there have been more princes and kings, mayors and aldermen,
and great merchants sitting at this table, than at any other.
It is called the table of worldlhiess. " Humph," says a man,
" well, I dislike the profligate ; there's my eldest son, I've
been hard at Avork saving up money all my life, and there's
that young fellow, he will not stick to business ; he has become
a real profligate ; I am very glad the minister spoke so sharp
about that. As for me — there now ; I do n't care about your
self-righteous people a single farthing ; to me it is of no ac-
count at all ; I do n't care at all about religion in the slightest
degree; I like to know whether the funds rise or fall, or
whether there is an opportunity of making a good bargain ;
but that's about all I care for." Ah ! worldling, I have read
of a friend of yours, who was clothed in scarlet, and fine linen,
and fared sumptuously every day. Do you know what be-
came of Iiim ? You should remember it, for the same end
awaits yourself. The end of h\s feast must be the end of
yours. If your Cod is this world, depend upon it you shall
280 * SATAN'S BAXQUET.
find tbat your way is full of bitterness. Now, see that table
of the worldly man, the mere worldling, who lives for gain.
Satan brings him in' a flowing cup. "There," says he, "young
man, you are starting in business ; you heed not care about
the conventionalities of honesty, or about the ordinary old-
fashioned fancies of religion ; get rich as quick as ever you
can. Get money — get money — honestly if you can, but, if
not, get it anyhow," says the devil ; and down he puts his
tankard. " There," says he, " is a foaming draught for you."
" Yes," say? the young man, " I- have abundance now. My
hopes are indeed reahzed." Here, then, you see the first
and best wine of the w^orldling's feast, and many of you are
tempted to envy this man. " Oh, that I had such a prospect
in business," says one; " I'm not half so sharp as he is, T could
not deal as he deals ; my religion would not let me. But how
fast he gets rich ! O that I could prosper as he does." Come,
my brother, judge not before the time ; there's a second course
to come, the thick and nauseous draught of care. The man
has got his money, but they that will be rich, fall into temp-
tation and a snare. Wealth ill-gotten, or ill-used, or hoarded,
brings a canker with it, that does not canker the gold and
silver, but cankers the man's heart, and a cankered heart is one
of the most awful things a man can have. Ah ! see this money-
lover, and mark the care which sits upon his heart. There
is a poor old woman, that lives near his lodge gate. She has
but a pittance a v/eek, but she says, " Bless the Lord, I have
enough !" She never asks how she is to live, or how she is to
die, or how she is to bo buried, but sleeps sweetly on the pil-
low of contentment and faith ; and here is this poor fool with
untold gold, but he is miserable because he happened to drop
a sixpence as he walked along the streets, or because he had
an extra call upon his charity, to which the presence of some
one compelled him to yield : or perhaps he groans because his
coat wears out too soon.
After this comes avarice. Many have had to drink of that
cup ; may God save any of us from its fiery drops. A great
American preacher has said, " Covetousness breeds misery.
The sight of houses better than our own, of dress beyond our
SATAN'S BANQUET. 281
means, of jewels costlier than we may w^ear, of stately equip-
age, and rare curiosities beyond our reach, these hatch the
viper brood of covetous thoughts; vexing the poor, who
would be rich; tormenting the rich, who would be richei*.
The covetous man pines to see pleasure; is sad in the pres-
ence of cheerfulness ; and the joy of the world is his sorrow,
because all the happiness of others is not his. I do not w^on-
der that God abhors him. He inspects his heart as he would
a cave full of noisome birds, or a nest of rattling reptiles, and
loathes the sight of its crawling tenants. To the covetous
man life is a nightmare, and God lets him wrestle with it as
best he may. Mammon might build its palace on such a heart,
and Pleasure bring all its revelry there. Honor all its garlands
— it would be like pleasures in a sepulcher, and a garland on a
tomb." When a man becomes avaricious, all he has is noth-
ing to him ; " More, more, more !" says he, like some poor
creatures in a terrible fever, who cry, " Drink, drink, drink !"
and you give them drink, but after they have it, their thirst
increases. Like the horse-leech they cry, '' Give, give, give !"
Avarice is a raving madness which seeks to grasp the world
in its arms, and yet despises the plenty it has already. This
is a curse of which many have died ; and some have died with
the bag of gold in their hand, and with misery upon their
brow, because they could not take it with them into their
coffin, and could not carry it into another world. Well, then,
there comes the next course. Baxter, and those terrible old
preachers used to picture the miser, and the man who lived
only to make gold, in the middle of hell ; and they imagined
Mammon pouring melted gold down his throat. " There,"
say the mocking devils, " that is what you wanted, you have
got it now ; drink, drink, drink !" and the molten gold is
poured down. I shall not, however, indulge in any such ter-
rible imaginations, but this much I know, he that liveth to
himself here, must perish ; he who sets his affections upon
things on earth, hath not digged deep — ^lie has built his house
upon the sands; and when the rain descends, and the floods
come, down must come his house, and great must be the fall
thereof. It is the best wine first, however ; it is the respect-
282 SATAN'S BANQUET.
able man — respectable and respected — everybody honors him
— and afterwards that which is worse, when meanness has
beggared his wealth, and covetousness has maddened his
brain. It is sure to come, as sure as ever you give yourself
up to w^orhiliness.
4. The fourth table is set in a very secluded corner, in a
very private part of Satan's palace. There is the table set
for secret sinners^ and here the old rule.is observed. At that
' table, in a room well darkened, I see a young man sitting to-
day, and Satan is the servitor, stepping in so noiselessly, that
no one would hear him. He brings in the first cup — and O
how sweet it is ! It is the cu^d of secret sin. " Stolen w^aters
are sweet, and bread eaten in secret is pleasant." How sweet
that morsel, eaten all alone ! Was there ever one that rolled
so delicately under the tongue ? That is the first ; after that,
he brings in another — the wine of an unquiet conscience.
The man's eyes are opened. He says, " What have I done ?
What have I been doing? Ah," cries this Achan, *' the first
cup you brought me, I sav/ sparkling in that a wedge of gold,
and a goodly Babylonish garment ; and I thought, ' O, I must
have that ;' but now my thought is. What shall I do to hide
this, where shall I put it ? I must dig. Ay, I must dig deep
as hell before I shall hide it, for sure enough it wall be dis-
covered."
The grim governor of the feast is bringing in a massive
bowl, filled with a black mixture. The secret sinner drinks,
and is confounded ; he fears his sin will find him out. He
has no peace, no happiness, he is full of uneasy fear ; he is
afraid that he shall be detected. He dreams at night that
there is some one after him ; there is a voice whispenng
in his ear, and telling him, " I know all about it ; I will tell
it." He thinks, perhaps, that the sin which he has commit-
ted in secret will break out to his friends; the father will
know it, the mother will know it. Ay, it may be even the
physician will tell the tale, and blab out the wretched secret.
For such a man there is no rest. He is always in dread of
arrest. He is like the debtor I have read of, who, owing a
great deal of money, was afraid the bailiffs were after him :
SATAN*S BAKQUET. 283
and happening one day to catch his sleeve on the top of a
palisade, said, " There, let me go ; I'm in a hurry. I will
pay you to-morrow,'* imagining that some one was laying
hold of hira.
Such is the position in which the man places himself by par-
taking of the hidden things of dishonesty and sin. Thus he
finds no rest for the sole of his foot for fear of discovery. At
last the discovery comes ; it is the last cup. Often it comes
on earth ; for be sure your sin will find you out, and it will
generally find you out here. What frightful exhibitions are
to be seen at our police courts of men who are made to drink
that last black draught of discovery. The man who presided
at religious meetings, the man who was honored as a saint, is
at last unmasked. And what saith the judge — and what saith
the world of him ? He is a jest, and a rei^roach, and a rebuke
everywhere. But, suppose he should be so crafty, that he
passes through life without discovery — though I think it is
almost impossible — what a cup he must drink when he stands
at last before the bar of God ! " Bring him forth, jailor !
Dread keeper of the dungeon of hell, lead forth the prisoner."
lie comes ! The whole world is assembled. " " Stand up, sir !
Did you not make a profession of religion? did not every-
body think you a saint ?" He is speechless. But many there
are in that vast crowd who cry, " We thought him so." The
book is open, his deeds are read : transgression after trans-
gression all laid bare. Do you hear that hiss ? The righteous,
moved to indignation, are lifting up their voices against the
man who deceived them, and dwelt among them as a wolf in
sheep's clothing. Oh, how fearful it must be to bear the scorn
of the universe ! The good can bear the scorn of the wicked,
but for the wicked to bear the shame and everlasting contempt
which righteous indignation will heap upon them, will be one
of the most frightful things, next to the eternal endurance of
the wrath of the Most High, which, I need not add, is the last
cup of the devil's temble feast, with which the secret sinner
must be filled for ever and ever.
I pause now, but it is just to gather up my strength, to beg
that any thing I may have said, that shall have the slightest
284 SATAN'S BANQUET.
personal bearing upon any of my hearers, may not be forgotten.
I beseech you, men ajid brethren, if now you are eating the
fat, and drinking the sweet of hell's banquet, pause and reflect
what shall the end be ? " He that soweth to the flesh, shall of
the flesh reap corruption. He that soweth to the spirit, shall
of the spirit reap life everlasting." I can not spare more time
for that, most assuredly.
n. But you must pardon me while I occupy only a few
minutes in taking you into the house op the Saviour, where
he feasts his beloved. Come and sit with us at Christ's table
of outicard 2>rovidences. He does not feast his children after
the fashion of the prince of darkness : for the first cup that
Christ brings to them is very often a cup of bitterness. There
are his own beloved children, his own redeemed, who have
but sorry cheer. Jesus brings in the cup of poverty and
affliction, and he makes his own children drink of it, till they
say, " Thou hast made me drunken with wormwood, and thou
hast filled me with bitterness." This is the way Christ begins.
The worst wine first. When the sergeant begins with a young
recruit, he gives him a shilling, and then, afterwards, come the
march and the battle. But Christ never takes his recruits so.
They must count the cost, lest they should begin to build, and
not be able to finish. He seeks to have no disciples who are
dazzled with first aj^pearances. He begins roughly with them, '
and many have been his children who have found that the
first course of the Redeemer's table has been affliction, sorrow,
poverty and want.
In the olden time, when the best of God's people were at
the table, he used to serve them worst, for they wandered
about in sheep skins and goat skins, being destitute, afflicted,
tormented, of whom the world was not worthy, and they kept
on drinking of these bitter cups for many a day ; but let me
tell you, afterwards he brought out sweeter cups for them,
and you that have been troubled have found it so. After the
cup of affliction, comes the cup of consolation, and, oh, how
sweet is that ! It has been the privilege of these lips to drink
that cup after sickness and pain ; and I can bear witness, that
I said of my Master, " Thou hast kept the best wine until
SATAN'S BANQUET. 285
now." It was so luscious, that the taste thereof did take away
every taste of the bitterness of sorrow ; and I said, " Surely
the bitterness of this sickness is all past, for the Lord has
manifested hiinself to me, and given me his best wine." But,
beloved, the best wine is to come last. God's people will find
it so outwardly. The poor saint comes to die. The Master
has given him the cup of poverty, but now no more he drinks
thereof, he is rich to all the intents of bliss. He has had the
cup of sickness ; he shall drink of that no more. He has had
the enp of persecution, but now he is glorified, together with
his Master, and made to sit upon Ms throne. The best things
have come last to him in outward circumstances. There were
two martyrs once burned at Stratford-le-Bow ; one of them
was lame, and the other blind, and when they were tied to
the stake, the lame man took his crutch and threw it down,
and said to the other, " Cheer up, brother, this is the sharp
physic that shall heal us ; I shall not be lame within an hour
of this time, nor shalt thou be blind." Xo, the best things
were to come last. But I have often thought that the child
f God is very much like the Crusaders. The Crusaders started
olf on their journey, and they had to fight their way through
many miles of enemies, and to march through leagues of dan-
ger. You remember, perhaps, in history, the story that when
the armies of the Duke of Bouillon came insight of Jerusalem,
they sprang from their horses, clapped their hands, and cried,
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, Jerusalem I" They forgot all their
toils, all the weariness of the journey and all their wounds, for
there was Jerusalem in their sight. And how will the saint at
last cry, "Jerusalem! Jerusalem !" when all sorrow, and all
poverty and sickness are past, and he is blest with immortality.
The bad wine — bad did I say ? — nay, the hitter wine is taken
away, and the best wine is brought out, and the saint sees him-
self glorified for ever with Christ Jesus.
And now, wo will sit down at the table oi inward experience.
The fii-st cup that Chiist brings to his children, when they sit
at that table, is one so bitter that, perhaps, no tongue can ever
describe it — it is the cup o^conmction. It is a black cup, full
of the most intense bitterness. The apostle Paul once drank
286 SATAN'S BANQUET.
a little of it, but it was so strong that it made him blind for
three days. The conviction of his sin overpowered him totally ;
he could only give his soul to fasting and to prayer, and it was
only wiien he drank of the next cup that the scales fell from
off his eyes. I have drank of it, children of God, and I thought
that Jesus was unkind, but, in a little while, he brought me
forth a sweeter cup, the cup of his forgiving love, filled with
the rich crimson of his precious blood. Oh ! the taste of that
wine is in my mouth this very hour, for the taste thereof is as
the wine of Lebanon, that abideth in the cask for many a
day. Do you not remember when, after you had drunk the
cup of sorrow, Jesus came and show^ed you his hands and his
side, and said, " Sinner, I have died for thee, and given myself
for thee ; believe on me ?" Do you not remember how you
believed, and sipped the cup, and how you beheved again and
took a deeper draught, and said, " Blessed be the name of
God from this time forth and for ever; and let the whole
earth say, 'Amen,' for he hath broken the gates of brass, and
cut the bars of iron in sunder, and let the captives go free?"
Since then the glorious Master has s*aid to you, " Friend, come
up higher !" and he has taken you to upper seats in the best
rooms, and he has given you sweeter things. I will not tell
you to-day of the wines you have drank. The spouse in Solo-
mon's Song may supply the deficiency of my sermon this
morning. She drank of the spiced wine of his pomegranate ;
and so have you, in those high and happy moments when you
had fellowship with the Father, and with his Son, Jesus Christ.
But tarry aAvhile, he has kept the best wine yet. You shall soon
come near the banks of the Jordan, and then you shall begin
to drink of the old wine of the kingdom, that has been barreled
up since the foundation of the world. The vintage of the
Saviour's agony, the vintage of Gethsemane shall soon be
broached for you, the old wine of the kingdom. You are
come into the land " Beulah," and you begin to taste the full
flavor of the wines on the lees well refined. You know how
Buryan describes the state which borders on the vale of death.
It was a land flowing with milk and honey ; a land where the
angels often came to visit the saints, and to bring bundles of
SATAN'S BANQUET. 287
myrrh from the land of spices. And now the high step is
taken, the Lord puts his finger upon your eyelids and kisses
your soul out at your lips. Where are you now ? In a sea ot
love, and life, and bliss, and immortality. " O Jesus, Jesus,
Jesus, thou hast indeed kept the best wine until now ! My
Master ! I have seen thee on the Sabbath, but tliis is an ever-
lasting Sabbath. I have met thee in the congregation, but
this is a congregation that shall ne'er break up. O my Master !
I have seen the promises, but this is the fulfillment. I liave
blessed thee for gracious providences, but this is something
more than all these : thou didst give me grace, but now thou
hast given me glory ; thou wast once my shield, but thou art
now my sun. I am at thy right hand, where there is fullness
of joy for ever. Thou hast kept thy best wine until now. All
I ever had before was as nothing compared with this."
And, lastly — though, only time fails me, I could preach a week
upon this subject — the table of comimmion is one at which
God's children must sit. And the first thing they must drink
of there, is the cup of communion with Christ in his sufferings.
If thou wouldst come to the table of communion with Christ,
thou must first of all drink of the wine of Calvary. Christian,
thy head must be crowned with thorns. Thy hands must be
pierced, I mean not with nails, but, spiritually thou must be
crucified with Christ. We must suffer with him, or else we
can not reign with him ; we must labor with him first ; we
must sup of the wine which his Father gave him to drink, or
else we can not expect to come to the better part of the feast.
After drinking of the whie of his sufferings, and continuing to
drink of it, we must drink of the cup of his labors, we must
be baptized with his baptism, we must labor after souls, and
sympathize with liim in that ambition of his heart — the salva-
tion of sinners, and after that he will give us to drink of the
cnj) of his anticipated honors. Here on earth we shall have
good wuie in communion with Christ in his resurrection, in
his triumphs and his victories, but the best wine is to come at
last. O chambers of communion, your gates have been opened
to me ; but I have only been able to glance within them ; but
the day is coming when on your diamond hinges ye shall turn,
288 SATAN'S BANQUET.
and stand wide open for ever and ever ; and I shall enter into
the king's palace and go no more out. O Christian ! thou
shalt soon see the King in his beauty ; thy head shall soon be
on his bosom ; thou shalt soon sit at his feet with Mary ; thou
shalt soon do as the spouse did, thou shalt kiss him with the
kisses of his lips, and feel that his love is better than wine. I
can conceive you, brethren, in the very last moment of your
life, or rather, in the first moment of your life, saying, *' He
has kept the best wine until now." When you beghi to see
him face to face, when you enter into the closest fellowship,
with nothing to disturb, or to distract you, then shall you say,
" The best wine is kept until now."
A saint was once dying, and another who sat by him said —
" Farewell, brother, I shall never see you again in the land of
the living." " Oh," said the dying man, " I shall see you
again in the land of the living that is up yonder, where I am
going ; this is the land of the dying?'' Oh, brethren and sis-
ters, if we should never meet again in the land of the dying,
have we a hope that we shall meet in the land of the living,
and drink the best wine at last ?
SERMON XVIII.
THE FEAST OF THE LORD.
" The governor of the feast called the bridegroom, aud saith unto him, every
man at the beginnmg doth set forth good wine; and when men have well
drunk, then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until
now." — John, iL 9, 10.
I HAD exhausted my time this morning by describing the
feast of Satan — how at the four tables, whereat did sit the
profligate, the self-righteous, the worldly, and the secretly
sinful, the course of Satan was always on this wise — first the
good wine, and when men had well drunken, that which was
worse. His feast diminished in its value as it proceeded, and
went from the bright crackling of the thorn under the pot to
the blackness of darkness for ever. I had then in my second
point to show, that the rule of Christ's banquet is just the
very reverse — that Christ doth always give the best wine last
— that he doth save the good things until the end of the feast ;
nay, that sometimes the first cups at the table of Christ are
full of wormwood and gall, and are exceeding bitter, but that
if we tarry at the feast, they will grow sweeter, and sweeter,
and sweeter, until at last, when we shall come into the land
Beulah, and especially when we shall enter into the city of
our God, we shall be compelled to say, " Thou hast kept the
good wine imtil now."
Now, my dear friends, this is a great fact, that Christ's feast
increaseth in sweetness. When first the Lord Jesus Christ
proclaimed a feast for the sons of men, the first cup he set up-
on the table was but a very little one, and it had in it but few
words of consolation. You remember the inscription upon
that ancient vessel, the first cup of consolation that was ever
held to the sons of men — " The seed of the woman shall bruise
13
290 THE FEAST OF THE LORD.
the serpent's head." There was to them but little sweetness
there : much to us, because we can understand it better, and
8ome to them, because God's Spirit might help them to under-
stand it, but still in the revelation of it there seemed but little
promise. As the world went on, there were greater cups of
precious wine brought forth, whereof patriarchs and ancient
saints did drink ; but, beloved, all the wine they ever had un-
der the Old Testament dispensation was far behind that of
which we drink. He that is least in the kingdom of heaven
is more highly favored than he who is chief under the Old
Testament dispensation. Our fathers did eat manna, but we
do eat the bread that came down from heaven ; they did drink
of water in the wilderness, but we drink of that living water
whereof if a man drink he shall never thirst. It is true they
had much sweetness ; the cups of the ancient tabernacle had
precious wine in them ; there was in the outward symbol the
sign and the shadow, much that was delightful to the faith of
the true believer ; but we must remember that we are drink-
ing to-day of that wine which prophets and kings desired to
drink of, but died without a taste thereof. They guessed its
sweetness ; they could by faith foresee what it w^ould be ; but
lo ! we are allowed to sit at the table and quaff full draughts
of wines on the lees well refined, which God hath given to us
in this mountain wherein he hath made a feast of fat things for
all people.
But, beloved, the text still stands true of us — there is better
wine to come. We are in our privileges superior to patri-
archs, and kings and prophets. God has given us a brighter
and a clearer day than they had ; theirs was but the twilight
of the morning, compared with the noon-day which we enjoy.
But think not that we are come to the best wine yet. There
are more noble banquets for God's church ; and who knoweth
how long ere the best of the precious wine shall be broached ?
Know ye not that the King of heaven is connng again upon
this earth? Jesus Christ, who came once and broached his
heart for us on Calvary, is coming again, to flood the earth
with glory. He came once with a sin-offering in his hand :
behold, he comes no more with a sin-offering, but with the
THE FEAST OP THE LOED. 291
cup of salvation and of thanksgiving, to call upon the name
of the Lord and joyously to take unto himself the throne of
his father David. You and I, if we be alive and remain, shall
yet set that cup to our lips ; and if we die, we have this privi-
lege, this happy consolation, that we shall not be behindhand,
for " the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised in-
corruptible," and we shall diink of that millennial wine which
Christ our Saviour hath reserved to the last. Saints ! ye can
not tell what golden goblets those are of which ye shall drink
in the thousand years of the Redeemer's triumph. Ye can
not tell what wine, sparkling and red, that shall be, which
shall come from the vintage of the hills of glory, when he
whose garments are red with treading the wine-press, shall
descend in the great day and stand upon the earth. Why,
the very thought of this cheered Job. " I know that my Re-
deemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon
the earth : and though after my skin worms destroy this body,
yet in my flesh shall I see God." Let this rejoice and cheer
thee, Christian, that the good wine is kept even unto that
time.
And now, having sho^vn that this is the rule of Christ in the
great dispensation which he uses to all his church, I shall
come to the subject of this evening, which is this : First,
The fact that the believer shaUflnd that Christ keeps for him
the best wine till the last ; secondly, The reason of Christ for
80 doing / and thirdly, The lesson which we ought to learn
therefrom.
I. First, THE FACT THAT ChRIST KEEPS HIS GOOD WINE TILL
THE LAST. I was thinking as I rode here how very true this
is of some of God's people. Why there are some of God's
best beloved who have tl:eir names upon the breast-plate of
the great high priest, who are purchased with his blood, and
are very dear to his soul, who have not known from their
yonth up what it is to get out of the depths of poverty. They
have to live from hand to mouth, not knowing one day whence
another meal shall come. How many more there are of
God's people that are lying on beds of affliction ! Some of
the most precious of God's diamonds are lying on the dung-
292 THE FEAST OF THE LOED.
hill of disease. Ye may go and climb to many a chamber
where ye shall see the victims of all kinds of diseases, loath-
some, protracted, and painful, and ye shall see God's dear ones
languishing out a dying life. I might point you to others of
God's servants, whose days are spent in toil. There is needed
for the human body, and especially for the soul, a little rest
and a little of the food of knowledge ; but these have had so
little instruction that they can not get mental food ready for
themselves; if they read they can scarce understand, and they
have hard bondage in this life, which maketh their life bitter
and hindereth them from knowledge. They have to work
from morning to night, with scarce a moment's rest. Oh, be-
loved, will it not be true of them, when death shall give them
their discharge, when they shall leave this world, which has
been to them, with an emphasis, a vale of 4:ears ? Will not
they have to say, " Thou hast kept the good wine until now ?"
Oh, what a change for her who has come limping along these
many Sabbath days to the sanctuary ! for there, she shall go no
more up to the Lord's house limping and lame, but the " lame
man shall leap like the hart," and like Miriam, she shall dance
with the daughters of Israel. Ah, ye may have had to suffer
sickness and sorrow and pain, blindness and deafness, and a
thousand of this world's ills : what a change for you, when
you find them all gone ! Ko racking pains, no pining want,
no anxious care. Ye shall not have to cry for the sunlight to
penetrate your abodes, or weep because your sight is failing
through incessant labor with that murderous needle ; but ye
shall see the Hght of God, brighter than the light of the sun,
and ye shall rejoice in the beams that proceed from his coun-
tenance. Ye shall have no more infirmities; immortahty shall
have covered and swallowed them up ; that which was sown
in weakness shall be raised in power ; that which was sown
disordered, full of pain and sorrow, and disjointed and full of
agony, shall be raised full of delectable delights, no more ca-
pable of anguish, but quivering with joy and bliss unspeaka-
ble. Ye shall no more be poor ; ye shall be rich, richer than
the miser's dream. Ye shall no more have to labor ; there
shall ye rest upon your beds, each one of you walking in your
THE FEAST OF THE LORD. 293
uprightness. Te shall no more suffer fi-om neglect and scorn
and ignominy and persecution ; ye shall be glorified with
Christ, in the day when he shall come to be admired of them
that love him. What a change for such ! The best wine
Sndeed is kept to the last, in their case, for they have never had
any good wine here, to the eyes of men, though secretly they
have had many a drink from the bottle of Jesus. He has
often put his cordial cup to their lips. They have been like
the ewe lamb that belonged to the man in Nathan's parable :
they have drunk out of Christ's own cup on the earth, but
still even sweeter than that cup shall be the draught which
they shall receive at the last.
But, my dear friends, although I put these first, as especially
feeling the change, because we can see the difference, yet will
it be true of the most favored of God's children — all of them
shall say, " The best wine is kept till now." Of all the men
whom I might envy, I think I should first of all envy the
apostle Paul. What a man ! How highly favored ! how
greatly gifted ! how much blessed ! Ah, Paul, thou couldst
talk of revelations and of visions from on high. He heard
things which it was unlawful for a man to utter, and he saw
that which few eyes have ever seen. He was caught up into
the third heaven. What draughts of joy the apostle Paul
must have had ! what lookings into the deep tilings of God !
what soarings into the heights of heaven ! Perhaps there was
never a man who was more favored of God ; to have his
mind expanded, and then to have it filled full with the wisdom
and the revelation of the knowledge of the Most High. But
ask the apostle Paul whether he believes there is any thing
better to come, and he tells you, " Now we see through a
glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face ; now we know
in part, but then shall we know even as we are known." He
was evidently expecting something more than he had received ;
and, beloved, he was not disappointed. There was a heaven
as much above all the enjoyments of Paul, as the enjoyments
of Paul were above the depressions of his spirit, when he said,
" O wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from tlio
body of this death ?" There are children of God who havo
294 THE FEAST OP THE LORD.
all that they can need of this world's goods ; they seem to be
free from earthly care, and they have faith enough to trust
their God with regard to the future. Their faith is firm and
strong ; they have much love to the Redeemer ; they are en-
gaged in some delightful work, and the Holy Spirit attends
that work with great success. Their days follow steadily one
after another, like the waves of the still, calm sea. God is
with them, and they are greatly blessed ; they spread out their
roots by the river, their leaf also doth not wither, and whatso-
ever they do, it prospereth ; whichever way they turn their
band the Lord their God is with them ; in whatsoever land
they put their feet they are like Joshua — that land is givdfe
them to be an inheritance to them for ever. But, beloved,
even these shall see greater things than they have as yet
beheld. High as their Master has taken them into the house
of banqueting, lofty though the room be in which they now
feast, the Master shall say to them, " Come up higher." They
shall know more, enjoy more, feel more, do more, possess more.
They shall be nearer to Christ ; they shall have richer enjoy-
ments and sweeter employments than they have had ; and
they shall feel that their Master hath kept his good wine even
until now.
Entering into particulars for a moment, very briefly, I must
just observe, that there are many aspects under which we may
regard the heavenly state, and in each of these we shall have
to say that Christ has kept the good wine until then. Here
on earth the believer enters into rest by faith ; the Christian
enjoys rest even in the wilderness ; the promise is fulfilled.
"They shall dwell safely in the wilderness, and sleep in the
woods." God giveth to his beloved sleep ; there is a peace
that passeth all understanding, which we may enjoy even in
this land of turmoil, strife, and alarms — a peace which the
worldling knoweth not of, nor can he guess it —
" A holy calm within the breast,
The earnest of that glorious rest
Which for the church of God remains,
The end of cares, the end of pains."
THE FEAST OF THE LORD. 295
But, beloved, drink as we may of the cup of peace, the good
wine is kept until a future time. The peace we drink to-day
is dashed with some drops of bitter. There are disturbing
thoughts ; the cares of this world will come, doubts will arise ;
live as we may in this world, we must have disquietudes ;
thorns in the flesh must come. But, oh ! the " rest that re-
maineth for the people of God." What good ^vine shall that
be ! God hath a sun without a spot, a sky without a cloud, a
day without a night, a sea without a wave, a world without a
tear. Happy are they who, having passed through this world,
have entered into rest, and ceased from their own works, as
God did from his, bathing their weary souls in seas of heavenly
rest.
View heaven under another aspect. It is a place of holy
company. In this world we have had some good wine of
sweet company. We can tell of many of the precious sons
of Zion with whom we have taken sweet counsel ; blessed be
the Lord ; the righteous have not all failed from among men.
Some of you can remember golden names that were very dear
to you in the days of your youth — of men and women with
whom you used to go up to God's house and take sweet coun-
sel. Ah, what words used to drop from their lips, and what
sweet balm you had in the days of your sorrow when they
comforted and consoled you : and you have friends still left,
to whom you look up with some degree of reverence, while
they look upon you with intense affection. There are some men
that are comforters to your soul, and when you talk to them
you feel that their heart answers to your heart, and that you
can enjoy union and communion with them. But, beloved,
the good wine is kept till the last. All the fellowship with
the saints that we have had here, is as nothing compared with
what we are to enjoy in the world to come. How sweet it is
for us to recollect, that in heaven we shall be in the company
of the best men, the noblest men, the most mighty men, the
most honorable, and the most renowned. We shall sit with
Moses, and talk with him of all his life of wonders; we shall
walk with Joseph, and we shall hear from him of the grace
that kept hira in his hour of pei-il ; I <loubt not you and I shall
296 THE FEAST OF THE LORD.
have the privilege of sitting by the side of David, and hear-
ing him recount the perils and the dehverances through which
he passed. The saints of heaven make but one communion;
they are not divided into separate classes ; we shall be al-
lowed to walk through all the glorious ranks, and hold fel-
lowship with aU of them ; nor need we doubt that we shall
be able to know them all. There are many reasons, which I
could not now enumerate, for it would occupy too much
time, that seem to my mind to settle the point, that in heaven
we shall know even as we are known, and shall perfectly know
each other; and that, indeed, makes us long to be there.
"The general assembly and church of the first-born, whose
names are written in heaven." Oh, to get away from this
poor church here, that is full of strifes and divisions, and bick-
erings and jealousies and animosities — to get away from the
society of men that are full of infirmities, although they have
much grace, and to get into a place where there shall be no infir-
mities in those with whom we talk — no hasty tempers — where
we can not possibly strike a chord that would make a jarring
note — when it shall not be in our power to raise among those
holy birds of paradise a cause of strife — when we shall walk
in the midst of them all, and see love beaming from every eye,
and feel that deep afiection is seated in every heart. Oh! that
will be the best wine. Are you not longing to drink of it ?
— to enter into that great church fellowship, and attend those
glorious church meetings,
" Where all the chosen race
Shall meet around the throne,
To bless the conduct of his grace,
And make his wonders known."
Again, look at heaven, if you will, in the point of knowledge.
We know very much on earth that makes us happy; Jesus
Christ hath taught us many things that give us joy and glad-
ness. It is a world of ignorance, but still through grace we
have entered into the ^hool of the gospel, and we have learned
some sweet truths. It is true we are very much like the boy
who is beginning to write. We have to make many ugly
THE FEAST OF THE LORD. 297
pot-hooks and haugers, and we have not yet learned to write
the sweet running hand of joy; but nevertheless, the Lord
has taught us some great truths to till our hearts with joy ; —
the great doctrine ot* election, the knowledge of our redemp-
tion, the fact of our security in Christ ; these great but sim-
ple doctrines have filled our hearts with bliss. But, breth-
ren, the best wine is kept till the last ; when the Lord Jesus
Christ shall take the book and break the seals thereof, and
permit us to read it all, then shall we rejoice indeed, for tl)e
best wine will be at our lips. There are old casks of knowl-
edge that contain the lichest wine, and Christ shall stave them
in, and we shall drink of them to the full. It is not fit that
we should know all things now — we could not bear many
things, and therefore Christ keeps them back ; but
'* There shall you see, and hear, and know,
AU you desired or wished below,
And every power find sweet employ
In that eternal world of joy."
You may, if you please, look at heaven in another sense —
as a place of manifestations and of joys. Now this world is
a place of manifestations to the believer. Shall I venture for
a moment, or even for a second, to talk of manifestations of
hiraseli' which Christ is pleased to aflbrd to his poor children
on earth ? No, beloved, your own experience shall supply
my lack. I will only say that there are times when the Lord
Jesus saith unto his beloved, " Come, my beloved, let us go
forth into the field ; let us lodge in the villages. Let us get
up early to the vineyards ; let us see if the vine flourish,
whether the tender grape appear, and the pomegranates bud
forth : there will I give thee ray loves." But what must be
the fellowship of heaven ? I fail to-night in attempting to talk
to you of the best wine, for this 8im])le reason — I believe there
are very few men that can preach of heaven so as to interest you
much, for you feel that all we can say is so far behind the re-
ality, that we might as well have let it alone. Baxter might
write a SainVs liest^ but I am no Baxter — would God I were I
The day may come, perhaps, when I may talk more copiously
13*
298 THE FEAST OP THE LOED.
of these blessings ; but at present, in ray own soul, when I be-
gin to talk of communion of heaven, I seem overcome, I can
not imagine it ; for the next thought that always succeeds my
first attempt to think of it, is a thought of overwhelming grati-
tude, coupled with a kind of fear that this is too good for such
an unworthy worm as I. It was a privilege for John to put
his head on the Master's bosom, but that is nothing compared
with the privilege of lying in his embrace for ever. Oh ! we
must wait until we get there, and as one of old said, " In five
minutes you shall know more of heaven than I could tell you
in all my life." It needs but that w^e should see our Lord, that
we should fly into his arms, that we should feel his embrace,
that we should fall at his feet, and, was I about to say, weep
for joy ? No, that were impossible, but lie there, as it were,
dissolved away in ecstasy — to feel that we at least have arrived
in that dear place which he has spoken to us of when he said ;
" Let not your heart be troubled ; ye believe in God, believe
also in me ; in my Father's house there are many mansions ;
if it were not so I would have told you ; I go to prepare a
place for you." Truly he hath kept the best wine until the
last.
II. And now, what is due Lord's reason for doing this ?
That was the second point. Very briefly.
. The Lord might have given us the best wine first, but he
will not act as the devil doth ; he will always make a broad
distinction between his dealings and the dealings of Satan.
Again, he will not give us the best wine first, because that
is not his good pleasure. " Fear not, little flock, it» is your
Father's good j^leasure to give you the kingdom." That is
the only reason why you will get it at all ; and the reason why
you do not receive it now is because it is not your Father's
good pleasure that you should have it JAist yet.
Again, your Father doth not give you the good wine now,
because he is giving you an appetite for it. At the old feasts
of the Romans, men used to drink bitter things, and all kinds
of singula? and noxious mixtures, to make them thirsty. Now,
in this world, God is, as it were, making his children thirsty,
that they may take deeper di'aughts of heaven. I can not
THE FEAST OP THE LORD. 299
think that heaven would be so sweet to me if I had not first
to dwell on earth. Wlio knoweth best tlie sweet of rest ?
Is it not the laborer ? Who understandeth best the joy of
peace? Is it not the man who hath dwelt in the land of war?
Who knoweth most the sweetness of joy ? Is it not the man
who hath passed through a world of sorrow ? Ye are having
your appetites sharpened by these trials; ye are being made
ready to receive the fullness of joy that is in the presence of
God for ever.
Again, the Lord hath this also in view. He is making you
fit for the best wine, that he may be glorified by the trial of
your faith. If it were in my power to go to heaven to-night,
and I could enter there, yet if I should have a suspicion that
there was more to do or more to suffer here, I w^ould infinitely
prefer to wait my Father's time; because, methinks, in heaven
we shall bless God for all we have sufi*ered. When it is all
over, how sweet it will be to talk of it ! When you and I
shall meet each other in the streets of heaven — and there be
some of you that have had but few trials, but few doubtings
and fearings, and tribulations and conflicts — you will talk of
how God delivered you ; but you will not be able to talk as
some of the tried saints will. Ah ! what sweet stories some
of them will tell ! I should like to go by the side of Jonah,
and hear how he went down to the bottom of the mountains,
and how he thouglit the earth with her bars was about him
for ever. And Jeremiah — I often think what a deal we shall
get out of Jeremiah in eternity — what he will have to tell,
who took such plunges into the sea of sorrow I And David,
too, the sweet Psalmist, so full of experience, he will never
have done talking of what the Lord has done for him ! And
I think you and I, when we get to heaven, will have enough
to think of. As a poor woman once said, when she was in
great doubt and fear whether she should be saved at all ; she
said in her prayer, " Lord, if thou wilt save me, only one
thing I can promise thee. If thou wilt take me to heaven
thou shalt never hear the last of it, for I will praise thee while
immortality lasts, and I will tell the angels that ho saved me."
And this is the constant burden of heaven. They are each
300 THE FEAST OF THE LORD.
one wondering that he is there. Beloved, if we did not have
to pass through these trials and troubles, and these soul con-
flicts, and such like, we should have very little to talk about
in heaven. I have no doubt that the babes in Paradise are as
happy as the rest, but I do not wish to be a babe in Paradise.
I bless God I did not go to heaven when an infant : I shall
have the more to praise God for, when I shall look back
through a life of mercies, a life of trials, and yet a life of sus-
taining grace. There will be a louder song, because the
deeper have been our troubles. These, I think, are some of
God's reasons.
in. And now, dear brethren and sisters, what shall I say
about the lesson we are to learn from this fact of Christ
keeping the best wine until now ? Going home the other
night I noticed the difference between the horse's pace in com-
ing here and going home, and I thought to myself, " Ah ! the
horse goes well, because he is going home ;" and the thought
struck me, " How well a Christian ought to go, because he is
going home." You know, if we were going from home,
every rough stone in the road might check us, and we might
need a good deal of whip to make us go. But it is going
home. Bless God, every step we take is going home. It may
be knee-deep in trouble, but it is all on the road ; we may be
ankle-deep in fear, but it is going home; I may stumble, but I
always stumble homeward. All my afflictions and griefs, when
they cast me down, but cast me onward toward heaven. The
mariner does not mind the waves, if every wave sends him
nearer his haven, and he does not care how loudly howl the
winds, if they only blow him nearer port. That is the Chris-
tian's happy lot : he is going homeward. Let that cheer thee,
Christian, and make thee travel on joyfully, not needing the
whip to urge thee to duty, but always going on with alacrity
through duty and through trial, because thou art going home-
ward.
Again, if we have the best things to come, dear friends, do
not let us be discontented. Let us put up with a few of the
bad things now, for they only seem to be so. A traveler who
is on a journev in a hurry, if he has to stay for a night at an
THE FEAST OF THE LORD. 301
inn, he may grumble a little at the want of accommodation,
but he does not say very much, because he is off to-morrow ,
he is only stopping a short time at the inn ; he says, " I shall
get home to-morrow night," and then he thinks of the joys of
home, and does not care about the discomforts of his hard
journey. You and I are travelers. It will soon be over.
We may have had but a very few shillings a week compared
with our neighbor, but we shall be equal with him when we
get there. He may iiave had a large house, with a great many
rooms, while we had, it may be, only one upper room ; ah ! we
shall have as large a mansion as he in Paradise. We shall
soon be at the journey's end, and then the road will not sig-*
nify, so long as we have got there. Come ! let us put up with
these few inconveniences on the road, for the best wine is
coming ; let us pour away all the vinegar of murmuring, for
the best wine shall come.
Once more : if the Christian has the best wine to come,
why should he envy the worldling ? David did ; he was dis-
contented when he saw the prosperity of the wicked, and you
and I are often tempted to do it ; but you know what we
ought to say when we see the wicked prosper, when we see
them happy, and full of delights of sinful pleasure. We ought
to say, " Ah ! my good wine is to come ; I can bear that you
should have your turn ; my turn will come afterwards ; I can
be put off with these things, and lie with Lazarus at the gate,
while the dogs Hck my sores ; my turn is to come, when the
angels shall carry me into Abraham's bosom, and your turn is
to come too, when in hell you lift up your eyes, being in tor-
ments."
Christian, what more shall I say to thee ? — though there be
a thousand lessons to learn from this, that the best wine is kept
to the last. " Take heed to thyself, that thou also keepest thy
good wine until the last. The further thou goest on the road,
seek to bring to thy Saviour the more acceptable sacrifice.
Thou hadst little faith years ago : man ! biing out the good
wine now ! Seek to have more faith. Thy Master is better
to thee every day, and thou shalt see him to be the best of all
masters and friends. Seek to be better to thy Master every
302 THE FEAST OF THE LORD.
day ; be more generous to his cause, more active to labor for
him, more kind to his people, more diligent in prayer ; and
take heed that as thou growest in years thou growest in grace,
so that when thou coraest at last to the river Jordan, and the
Master shall give thee the best wine, thou mayest also give to
him the best wine, and praise him most loudly when the bat-
tle shall just be over, and when the whirlwind is dying away
into the everlasting peace of Paradise."
And now, dear friends, I am conscious that I have totally
failed in endeavoring to bring forth this good wine ; but it is
written that God hath revealed it unto us by his Spirit, but
that ear hath not heard it. Now, if I had told it to you to-
night your ear would have heard it, and the text would not
have been true ; and as I have unwittingly proved the truth
of this Scripture, I can not be very sorry at having helped to
witness the truth of my Master's word. Only this I say — the
nearer you live to Christ the nearer you will be to heaven, for
if there is one place next door to Pisgah it is Calvary. It may
seem strange, but if you live much on Calvary you live very
near Nebo ; for although Moses may have seen Canaan from
Nebo, I have never seen heaven anywhere but close to Cal-
vary. When I have seen my Saviour crucified, then I have
seen him glorified ; when I have read my name written in his
blood, then I have seen afterward my mansion which he has
prepared for me. When I have seen my sins washed away,
then I have seen the white robe that I am to wear for ever.
Live near to the Saviour, man, and you shall not be very far
off heaven. Recollect, after all, it is not far to heaven. It is
only one gentle sigh, and we are there. We talk of it as a
land very far off, but close it is, and who knows but that the
spirits of the just are here to-night ? Heaven is close to us ;
we can not tell where it is, but this we know, that it is not a
far off land. It is so near, that, swifter than thought, we shall
be there, emancipated from our care and woe, and blessed for
ever.
SERMON XIX.
THE BLOOD.
" When I see the blood, I will pass over you." — Exodus, xii. 13.
God's people are always safe. "All the saints are in his
hand ;" and the hand of God is a place of safety, as well as a
place of honor. Nothing can hurt the man who has made his
refuge God. " Thou hast given commandment to save me,"
said David ; and every believing child of God may say the
same. Plague, famine, war, tempest — all these have received
commandment of God to save his people. Though the earth
should rock beneath the feet of man, yet the Christian may
stand fast, and though the heavens should be rolled up, and
the firmament should pass away like a scroll that is burned by
fervent heat, yet need not a Christian fear ; God's peoj^le shall
be saved : if they can not be saved under the heavens, they
shall be saved in the heavens ; if there be no safety for them
in the time of trouble upon this solid earth, they sliall be
" caught up together with the Lord in the air, and so shall
they be ever with the Lord," and ever safe.
Now, at the time of which this book of Exodus speaks,
Egypt was exposed to a terrible peril. Jehovah himself was
about to march through the streets of all the cities of Egypt.
It was not merely a destroying angel, but Jehovah himself;
for thus it is written, " I will pass tlnough the land of Egypt
this night, and will smite all the first-born in the land of
Egypt, both man and beast." No one less than I AM, the
great God, had vowed to " cut Rahab" with the sword of
vengeance. Tremble, ye inhabitants of the earth, for God
has come down among you, provoked, incensed, and at last
awakened from his seeming sleep of patience. He has girded
on his terrible sword, and he has come to smite you. Quake
304 THE BLOOD.
for fear, all ye that have sin within yon, for when God walks
through the streets, sword in hand, will he not smite you all?
But hark ! the voice of covenant mercy speaks. God's children
are safe, even though an angry God be in the streets. As
they are safe from the rod of the wicked, so are they safe from
the sword of justice — always and ever safe ; for there was not
a hair of the bead of an Israelite that was so much as touched ;
Jehovah kept them safe beneath his wings. While he did
rend his enemies like a lion, yet he did protect his children,
every one of them. But, beloved, while this is always true,
that God's people are safe, there is another fact that is equally
true, namely, that God's people are only safe through the blood.
The reason why God spares his people in the time of calamity
is, because he sees the blood-mark on their brow. What is
the basis of that great truth, that all things work together for
good to them that love God ? What is the cause that all
things so produce good to them, but this, that they are bought
with the precious blood of Christ ? Therefore it is that nothing
can hurt them, because the hlood is upon them, and every evil
thing must pass them by. It was so that night in Egypt.
God himself was abroad with his sword ; but he spared them,
because he saw the blood-mark on the lintel and on the two
side-posts. And so it is with us. In the day when God in
his fierce anger shall come forth from his dwelling-place, to
affright the earth with terrors and to condemn the wicked, we
shall be secure, if, covered with the Saviour's righteousness,
and sprinkled with his blood, we are found in him.
Do I hear some one say that I am now coming to an old
subject ? This thought struck me when I was preparing for
preaching, that I should have to tell you an old story over
again ; and just as I was thinking of that, happening to turn
over a book, I met with an anecdote of Judson the missionary
to Burmah. He had passed through unheard-of hardships,
and had performed dangerous exploits for his Master. He
returned, after thirty years' absence, to America. " Announced
to address an assembly in a provincial town, and a vast con-
course having gathered fx'om great distances to hear him, he
rose at the close of the usual service, and, as all eyes were
THE BLOOD. 305
fixed and every ear attent, he spoke for about fifteen minutes,
with much pathos, of the precious Saviour, of what he had
done for us, and of what we owed to him ; and he sat down,
visibly affected." " The people are very much disappointed,"
said a friend to him on their way home ; " they wonder you
did not talk of something else.'*^ " Why what did the want ?"
he replied : " I presented, to the best of my ability, the most
interesting subject iu the world." " But they wanted some-
thing different — a story." " "Well, I am sure I gave them a
story — the most thrilling one that can be conceived of." " But
they had heard it before. They wanted something new of a
man who had just come from the antipodes." "Then I am
glad they have it to say, that a man coming from the antipodes
had nothing better to tell them than the wondrous story of
the dying love of Jesus. My business is to preach the gospel
of Christ; and when I can speak at all, I dare not trifle with
my commission. When I looked upon those people to-day,
and remembered where I should next meet them, how could I
stand up and furnish food to vain curiosity — tickle their fancy
with amusing stories, however decently strung together on a
thread of religion ? That is not what Christ meant by preach-
ing the gospel. And then how could I hereafter meet the fear-
ful charge, ' I gave you one opportunity to tell them of ME ; you
spent it in describing your own adventures !' " So I thought.
Well, if Judson told the old story after he had been thirty
years away, and could not find any thing better, I will just go
back to this old subject, which is always new and always fresh
to us — the precioics blood of Christ, by which we are saved.
Fii-st, then, tJie blood ; secondly, its efficacy ; thirdly, the
one condition appended to it: — " When jT see the blood ; and
fourthly, the pra,ctical lesson.
I. First, then, the blood itself. In the case of the
Israelites, it was the blood of the paschal lamb. In our case,
beloved, it is the blood of the Lamb of God which taketh
away the sins of the world.
1. The blood of which I have solemnly to speak this morn-
ing, is, first of all, the blood of a dimnely appointed victim.
Jesus Christ did not come into this world unappointed. He
306 THE BLOOD.
was sent here by his Father. This indeed, is one of the under-
lying groundworks of the Christian's hope. We can rely
upon Jesus Christ's acceptance by his Father, because his
Father ordained him to be our Saviour from before the foun-
dation of the world. Sinner ! when I preach to thee the
blood of Christ this morning, I am preaching something that
is well pleasing to God ; for God himself did choose Christ to
be the Redeemer ; he himself set him apart from before the
foundation of the world, and he himself, even Jehovah the
Father, did lay upon him the iniquity of us all. The sacrifice
of Christ is not brought to you without warrant ; it is not a
something which Christ did surreptitiously and in secret ; it
was written in the great decree from all eternity, that he was
the Lamb slain from before the foundation of the world. As
he himself said, " Lo, I come ; in the volume of the book it is
written of me, I delight to do thy will^ O God." It is God's
will that the blood of Jesus should be shed. Jesus is God's
chosen Saviour for men ; and here, when addressing the un-
godly, here, I say, is one potent argument with them. Sinner !
you may trust in Christ, that he is able to save you from the
wrath of God, for God himself has appointed him to save.
2. Christ Jesus, too, like the lamb, was not only a divinely
appointed victim, but he was spotless. Had there been one
sin in Christ, he had not been capable of being our Saviour ;
but he was without spot or blemish — without original sin,
without any practical transgression. " In him was no sin,
though he was tempted in all points like as we are." Here,
again, is the reason why the blood is able to save, because it
is the blood of an innocent victim, a victim, the only reason
for whose death lay in us, and not in himself. When the poor
innocent lamb was put to death, by the head of the household
of Egypt, I can imagine that thoughts like these ran through
his mind. " Ah !" he would say, as he struck the knife into
the lamb, "this poor creature dies, not for any guilt that it
has ever had, but to show me that I am guilty, and that I de-
serve to die like this." Turn, then, your eye to the cross, and
see Jesus bleeding there and dying for you. Remember,
" Tor sins not his own, he died to atone :"
THE BLOOD. 307
sin had no foot-hold in him, never troubled hira. The prince
of this world came and looked, but he said, " I have nothing
in Christ ; there is no room for me to plant my foot — no piece
of corrupt ground which I may call my own." O sinner, the
blood of Jesus is able to save thee, because he was perfectly
innocent himself, and "he died, the just for the unjust, to
bring us to God."
But some will say, " Whence has the blood of Christ sucn
power to save ?" My reply is, not only because God appoint-
ed that blood, and because it was the blood of an innocent and
spotless being, but because Christ himself was God. If Christ
were a mere man, my hearers, you could not be exhorted to
trust him; were he ever so spotless and holy, there would be
no efficacy in his blood to save ; but Christ was " very God of
very God ;" the blood that Jesus shed was Godlike blood.
It was the blood of man, for he was man like ourselves ; but
the divinity was so allied with the manhood, that the blood
derived efficacy from it. Can you imagine what must be the
value of the blood of God's own dear Son? No, you can not
put an estimate upon it that should so much as reach to a
millionth part of its preciousness. I know you esteem that
blood as beyond all price if you have been washed in it ; but
I know also that you do not esteen it enough. It was the
wonder of angels that God should condescend to die ; it will
be the wonder of all wonders, the unceasing wonder of eter-
nity, that God should become man to die. Oh ! when we
think that Christ was Creator of the world, and that on his
all-sustaining shoulders did hang the universe, we can not won-
der that his death is mighty to redeem, and that his blood
should cleanse from sin. Come hither, saints and sinners ;
gather in and crowd around the cross, and see this man, over-
come with weakness, fainting, groaning, bleeding and dying.
This man is also " God over all, blessed for ever." Is there
not power to save ? Is there not efficacy in blood like that ?
Can you imagine any stretch of sin which shall out-measure
the power of divinity — any height of iniquity that shall over-
top the topless steeps of the divine? Can I conceive a depth
of sin that shall be deeper than the Infinite ? or a breadth of
308 THE BLOOD.
iniquity that shall be broader than the Godhead ? Because
he is divine, he is " able to save to the uttermost, them that
come unto God by him." Divinely appointed, spotless, and
divine, his blood is the blood whereby ye may escape . the
anger and the wrath of God.
4. Once more; the blood of which we speak to-day, is blood
once shed for many for the remission of sin. The paschal lamb
was killed every year ; but now Christ hath appeared to take
away sin by the offering up of himself, and there is now no
more mention of sin, for Christ once for all hath put away sin,
by the offering of himself. The Jew had the lamb every
morning and every evening, for there was a continual mention
of sin ; the blood of the lamb could not take it away. The
lamb availed for to-day, but there was the sin of to-morrow,
what was to be done with that ? Why, a fresh victim must
bleed. But oh, my hearer, our greatest joy is, that the blood
of Jesus has been once shed, and he has said, "It is finished."
There is no more need of the blood of bulls or of goats, or of
any other sacrifice ; that one sacrifice hath " perfected for ever
them that are sanctified." Trembling sinner! come to the
cross again ; thy sins are heavy and many ; but the atonement
for them is completed by the death of Christ. Look then to
Jesus, and remember that Christ needs nothing to supplement
his blood. The road between God and man is finished and
open ; the robe to cover thy nakedness is complete, without a
rag of thine ; the bath in which thou art to be washed is full,
full to the brim, and needs nothing to be added thereunto.
" It is finished !" Let that ring in thy ears. There is nothing
now that can hinder thy being saved, if God hath made thee
willing now to believe in Jesus Christ. He is a complete
Saviour, full of grace for an empty sinner.
5. And yet I must add one more thought, and then leave
this point. The blood of Jesus Christ is blood that hath been
accepted. Christ died — he was buried; but neither heaven
nor earth could tell whether God had accepted the ransom.
There was wanted God's seal upon the great Magna Charta
of man's salvation, and that seal was put, my hearer, in that
hour when God summoned the angel, and bade him descend
THE BLOOD. 309
from heaven and roll away the stone. Christ was put in dur-
ance vile in the prison-house of the grave, and as a hostage
for his people. Until God had signed the warrant for the ac-
quittal of all his people, Christ must abide in the bonds of death.
He did not attempt to break his prison ; he did not come out
illegally, by wrenching dow^n the bars of his dungeon ; he wait-
ed ; he wrapped up the napkin, folded it by itself; he laid the
grave-clothes in a separate place ; he waited, waited patiently ;
and at last down from the skies, like the flash of a meteor, the
angel descended, touched the stone and rolled it away ; and
when Christ came out, rising from the dead in the glory of
his Father's power, then was the seal put upon the great
charta of our redemption. Tlie blood was accepted, and sin
was forgiven. And now, soul, it is not possible for God to
reject thee, if thou comest this day to him, pleading the blood
of Christ. God can not — and here we speak with reverence
too — the everlasting God can not reject a sinner who pleads
the blood of Christ : for if he did so, it were to deny him-
self, and to contradict all his former acts. He has accepted
blood, and he icill accept it ; he never can revoke that divine
acceptance of the resurrection ; and if thou goest to God, my
Ijearcr, pleading simply and only the blood of hini that did
hang upon the tree, God must un-God himself before he can
reject thee, or reject that blood.
And yet I fear that I have not been able to make you think
of the blood of Christ. I beseech you, then, just for a mo-
ment try to picture to yourself Christ on the cross. Let your
imagination figure the motley crew assembled round about
that little hill of Calvary. Lift now your eyes, and see the
three crosses put upon that rising knoll. See in the center
the thorn-crowned brow of Christ. Do you see the hands
that have always been full of blessing nailed fast to the ac-
cursed wood ? See you his dear face, more marred than that
of any other man ? Do you see it now, as his head bows on
his bosom in the extreme agonies of death ? He was a real
man, remember. It was a real cross. Do not think of these
things as figments, and fancies, and romances. There was
saoh a being, and he died as I describe it. Let your imagip
310 THE BLOOD.
nation picture him, and then sit still a moment and think over
this thought : " The blood of that man, whom now I behold
dying in agony, must be my redemption ; and if I would be
saved, I must put my only trust in what he suffered for me,
when he himself did ' bear our sins in his own body on the
tree.' " If God the Holy Spirit should help you, you will then
be in a right state to proceed to the second point.
II. The EFFicAcic of this blood. "When I see the
blood I will pass over- you."
1. The blood of Christ hath such a divine power to save,
that nothing hut it can ever save the soul. If some foolish Is-
raelite had despised the command of God, and had said, " I
will sprinkle something else upon the door-posts," or " I will
adorn the lintel with jewels of gold and silver," he must have
perished ; nothing could save his household but the sprinkled
blood. And now let us all remember, that " other foundation
can no man lay than that which is laid, Jesus Christ," for
"there is none other name given among men whereby we must
be saved." My works, my prayers, my tears, can not save
me ; the bloody the blood alone, has power to redeem. Sacra-
ments, however well they may be attended to, can not save
me. Nothing but thy blood, O Jesus, can redeem me from
the guilt of sin. Though I should give rivers of oil, and ten
thousands of the fat of fed beasts ; yea, though I should give
my first-born for my transgressions, the fruit of my body for
the sin of my soul, all would be useless. Kothing but the
blood of Jesus has in it the slightest saving power. Oh I you
that are trusting in your baptism, your confirmation, and your
Lord's Supper, you are trusting in a lie. Nothing but the
blood of Jesus can save. I care not how right the ordinance,
how true the form, how scrij^tural the practice, it is all a van-
ity to you if you rely on it. God forbid I should say a word
against ordinances, or against holy things ; but keep them in
their places. If you make them the basis of your soul's sal-
vation, they are lighter than a shadow, and when you need
them most you shall find them fail you. There is not, I re-
peat it again, the slightest atom of saving power anywhere but
in the blood of Jesus. That blood has the only power to save,
THE BLOOD. 311
and aught else that you rely upon shall be a refuge of lies.
This is the rock, and this is the work that is perfect ; but all
other things are day-dreams ; they must be swept away in the
day when God shall come to try our work of what sort it is.
TIIE BLOOD stands out in solitary majesty, the only rock
of our salvation.
2. This blood is not simply the only thing that can save, but
it must save alone. Put any thing with the blood of Christ,
and you are lost ; trust to any thing else with this, and you
perish. " It is true," says one, " that the Sacrament can not
save me, but I will trust in that, and in Christ too." You are
a lost man, then. So jealous is Christ of his honor, that any
thing you put with him, however good it is, becomes, from the
fact of your putting it with him, an accursed thing. And
what is it thou wouldst put with Christ ? Thy good works ?
What ! wilt thou yoke a reptile with an angel — yoke thyself
to the chariot of salvation with Christ ? What are thy good
works ? Thy righteousnesses are " as filthy rags ;" and shall
filthy rags be joined to the spotless, celestial righteousness of
Christ? It must not, and it shall not be. Rely on Jesus
only, and thou canst not perish ; but rely on any thing with
him, and thou art as surely damned as if thou shouldst rely
upon thy sins. Jesus only — Jesus only — Jesus only — this is
the rock of our salvation.
And here let me stop, and combat a few forms and shapes
which our self-righteousness always takes. " Oh," says one,
" I could trust hi Christ if I felt my si?is more.^^ Sir, that is
a damning error. Is thy repentance, thy sense of sin, to be a
part Saviour ? Sinner ! the blood is to save thee, not thy tears ;
Christ's death, not thy repentance. Thou art bidden this day
to trust in Christ ; not in thy feelings, not in thy pangs on ac-
count of sin. Many a man has been brought into great soul
distress, because he has looked more at his repentance than at
the obedience of Christ —
" Could thy tears for ever flow,
Could thy zeal no respite know ;
All for sin could not atone,
312 THE BLOOD.
" Nay," says another, " but I feel that I do not value the
blood of Christ as I ought, and therefore I am afraid to be-
lieve." My friend, that is another insidious form of the same
error, God does not say, " When I see your estimate of the
blood of Christ, I will pass over you ; no, but when I see the
hlood?'* It is not your estimate of that blood, it is the blood
that saves you. As I said before, that magnificent, solitary
hlood must be alone.
" Nay," says another, " but if I had more faith then I should
have hope." That, too, is a very deadly shape of the same
evil. You are not to be saved by the efficacy of your faith,
but by the efficacy of the blood of Christ. It is not your be-
heving, it is Christ's dying. I bid you believe, but I bid you
not to look to your believing as the ground of your salvation.
No man will go to heaven if he trusts to his own faith ; you
may as well trust to your own good works as trust to your
faith. Your faith must deal with Christ, not with itself The
world hangs on nothing ; but faith can not hang upon itself,
it must hang on Christ. Sometimes, when my faith is vigor-
ous, I catch myself doing this. There is joy flowing into my
heart, and after a while I begin to find that my joy suddenly
departs. I ask the causes, and I find that the joy came be-
cause I was thinking of Christ ; but when I began to think
about my joy ^ then my joy fled. You must not think of your
faith, but of Christ. Faith comes from meditation upon Christ.
Turn, then, your eye, not upon faith but upon Jesus. It is not
your hold of Christ that saves you ; it is his hold of you. It
is not the e^cacy of your believing in him ; it is the efficacy
of his blood applied to you through the Spirit.
I do not know how sufficiently to follow Satan in all his
windings into the human heart, but this I know, he is always
ti ying to keep back this great truth — the blood, and the blood
alone has power to save. " Oh," says another, " if I had such
and such an experience then I could trust." Friend, it is not
thine experience, it is the blood. God did not say, *' When I
see your experience," but " When I see the hlood of Christ."*^
" Nay," says one, " but if I had such and such graces, I could
hope." Nay, but he did not say, " When I see your graces,"
THE BLOOD. 813
but " When I see the hlood:^ Get grace, get as much as you
can of faith, and love, and hope, but oh, do not put them where
Christ's blood ought to be. The only pillar of your hope must
be the cross, and aught else that you put to buttress up the
cross of Christ is obnoxious to God, and ceases to have any
virtue in it, because it is an anti-Christ. The blood of Christ,
then, alone, saves ; but any thing with it, and it does not
save.
3. Yet again we may say of the blood of Christ, it is allr
stifficient. There is no case which the blood of Christ can
not meet ; there is no sin which it can not wash away. There
is no multiplicity of sin which it can not cleanse, no aggrava-
tion of guilt which it can not remove. Ye may be double-
dyed like scarlet, ye may have lain in the lye of your sins
these seventy years, but the blood of Christ can take out the
stain. You may have blasphemed him almost as many times
as you have breathed, you may have rejected him as often as
you have heard his.name ; you may have broken his Sabbath,
you may have denied his existence, you may have doubted his
Godhead, you may have persecuted his servants, you may have
trampled on his blood ; but all this the blood can wash away.
You may have committed whoredoms without number, nay,
murder itself may have defiled your hands, but this fountain
filled with blood can wash all the stains away. The blood of Je-
sus Christ cleanseth us from all sin. There is no sort of a man,
there is no abortion of mankind, no demon in human shape
that this blood can not wash. Hell may have sought to make a
paragon of iniquity, it may have striven to put sin, and sin, and
sin together, till it has made a monster in the shape of a man,
a monster abhorred of mankind, but the blood of Christ can
transform that monster. Magdalen's seven devils it can cast
out, the madness of the demoniac it can ease, the deep-seated
leprosy it can cure, the wound of the maimed, yea, the lost
limb it can restore. There is no spiritual disease which the
great Physician can not heal. This is the great Catholicon,
the medicine for all diseases. No case can exceed its virtue,
be it never so black or vile ; all-sufficient, all-sufficient blood.
4. But go further. Tlie blood of Christ saves surely. Many
14
314 THE BLOOD,
people say, " Well, I hope I shall be saved through the blood
of Christ ;" and perhaps says one here, who is believing in
Christ, " Well, I hope it will save." My dear friend, that is .a
slur upon the honor of God. If any man gives you a promise
and you say, " Well, I hope he will fulfill it ;" is it not implied
that you have at least some small doubt as to whether he will
or not ? Now, I do not hope that the blood of Christ will
wash away my sin. I know it is washed away by his blood ;
and that is true faith which does not hope about Christ's
blood, but says, " I know it is so ; that blood does cleanse.
The moment it was applied to my conscience it did cleunse,
and it does cleanse still." The Israelite, if he was true to his
faith, did not go inside and say, " I hope the destroying angel
will pass by me ;" but he said, " I know he will ; I know God
can not smite me ; I know he will not. There is the blood-
mark there ; I am secure beyond a doubt ; there is not the
shadow of a risk of my perishing. I am, I must be saved."
And so I preach a sure gospel this- morning : "Whosoever
believeth on the Lord Jesus Christ shall not perish, but have
everlasting life." " I give unto my sheep eternal life," said he,
"and they shall never perish, neither shall any pluck them out
of my hand." O, sinner, I have not the shadow of a doubt
as to whether Christ will save you if you trust in his blood.
no, I know he will. I am certain his blood can save ;^nd
1 beg you, in Christ's name, believe the same ; believe that
that blood is sure to cleanse ; not only that it may cleanse, but
that it must cleanse — " whereby we must be saved," says the
Scripture. If we have that blood upon us we must be saved,
or else we are to suppose a God unfaithful and a God unkind ;
in fact, a God transformed from every thing that is God-like
into every thing that is base.
5. And yet again, he that hath this blood sprinkled upon
him is saved completely. Not the hair of the head of an Is-
raelite was disturbed by the destroying angel. They were
completely saved ; so he that believeth in the blood is saved
from all things. I like the old translation of the chapter in
the Romans. There was a martyr once summoned before
Bonner ; and after he had expressed his faith in Christ, Bonner
THE BLOOD. 815
said, " You are a heretic and will be damned." " Nay," said
he, quoting the old version, "there is therefore now no
damnation to them that believe in Christ Jesus." And that
brings a sweet thought before us ; there is no damnation lo
the man who has the blood of Christ upon him ; he can not be
condemned of God anyhow. It were impossible. There is
no such a thing ; there can be no such thing. There is no
damnation. He can not be damned ; for there is no damna-
tion to him that is in Christ Jesus. Let the blood be applied
to the lintel, and to the door-post, there is no destruction.
There is a destroying angel for Egypt, but there is none for
lai-ael. There is a hell for the wicked, but none for the lighteous.
And if there is none, they can not be put there. If there is
no damnation they can not suffer it. Christ saves completely ;
every sin is washed, every blessing ensured, perfection is pro-
vided, and glory everlasting is the sure result.
I think, then, I have dwelt sufficiently long upon the efficacy
of his blood; but no tongue %S seraph can ever speak its
worth. I must go home to my chamber, and weep because I
am powerless to tell this story, and yet I have labored to tell
it simply, so that all can understand ; and I pray, therefore,
that God the Spirit may lead some of you to put your trust
simply, wholly, and entirely, on the blood of Jesus Christ.
III. This brings us to the third point, upon which I must
be very brief; and the third point is — ^the one condition.
'*What," says one, " do you preach a conditional salvation ?"
Yes I do, there is one condition. " When I see the blood I will
pass over you." What a blessed condition ! It does not say,
when you see the blood, but when i" see it. Thine eye of faith
may be so dim that thou canst not see the blood of Christ.
Ay, but God's eye is not dim ; he can see it, yea he must see
it ; for Chiist in heaven is always presenting his blood before
his Father's face. The Israelite could not see the blood ; he
was inside the house ; he could not see what was on the lintel
and the door-post ; but God could see it ; and this is the only
condition of the sinner's salvation — God seeing the blood; not
your seeing it. O how safe, then, is every one that trusts in
the Lord Jesus Christ. It is not his iaith that is the condition,
316 THE BLOOD.
not his assurance ; it is the simple fact, that Calvary is set per-
petually before the eyes of God in a risen and ascended Saviour.
" When / see the blood, I will pass over you." Fall on your
knees then in prayer, ye doubting souls, and let this be your
plea : — " Lord, have mercy upon me for the blood's sake. I
can not see it as I could desire, but Lord, thou seest it, and
thou hast said, ' When I'see it, I will pass over you.' Lord,
thou seest it this day ; pass over my sin, and forgive me for its
dear sake alone."
IV. And now, lastly, what is the lesson ? The lesson of
the text is to the Christian this. Christian, take care that
thou dost always remember, that nothing but the blood of
Christ can save thee. I preach to myself to-day what I preach
to you. I often find myself like this : — I have been praying
that the Holy Spirit might rest in my heai't and cleanse out an
evil passion, and presently I find myself full of doubts and
fears, and when I ask the reason, I find it is this : — I have been
looking to the Spirit's work u^til I put the Spirit's work where
Christ's work ought to be. Now, it is a sin to put your own
works where Christ's should be ; but it is just as much a sin
to put the Holy Spirit's work there. You must never make the
Spirit of God an anti-Christ ; and you virtually do that when
you put the Spirit's work as the groundwork of your faith.
Do you not often hear Christian men say, " I can not believe
in Christ to-day as I could yesterday, for yesterday I felt such
sweet and blessed enjoyments." Now, what is that but put-
ting your frames and feelings where Christ ought to be? Re-
member, Christ's blood is no more able to save you in a good
frame than in a bad fi-ame. Christ's blood must be your trust
as much when you are full of joy as when you are full of doubt.
And here it is that your happiness will be in danger, by be-
ginning to put your good frames and good feelings in the
room of the blood of Christ. O, brethren, if we could always
live with a single eye fixed on the cross, we should always be
happy ; but when we get a little peace, and a little joy, we
begin to prize the joy and peace so much, that we forget the
source whence they come. As Mr. Brooks says, " A husband
that loves his wife will, perhaps, often give her jewels and
THE BLOOD. 317
rings ; but suppose she should sit down and begin to think of
her jewels and rings so much that she should forget her hus-
band, it would be a kind husband's business to take them away
from her so that she might fix her affections entirely on him."
And it is so with us. Jesus gives us jewels of faith and love,
and we get trusting to them, and he takes them away in order
that we may come again as guilty, helpless sinners, and put
our trust in Christ. To quote a verse I often repeat — I be-
lieve the spirit of a Christian should be, from his first hour to
his last, the spirit of these two lines : —
" Nothing in my hand I bring,
Simply to thy cross I cling."
That is the lesson to the saint.
But another minute ; there is a lesson here to the sinnei^
Poor, trembling, guilty self-condemned sinner, I have a word
from the Lord for thee. " The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth
us," that is you and me, " cleanseth us from all sin." That
" us" includes you, if now you are feeling your need of a
Saviour. Now that blood is able to save you, and you are
bidden simply to trust that blood, and you shall be saved.
But I hear you say, "Sir," you said, "if I feel my need. Now
I feel that I do not feel, I only wish I did feel my need enough."
Well, do not bring your feelings, then, but trust only in the
blood. If you can rely simply on the blood of Chiist, what-
ever your feelings may be, or may not be, that blood is able
to save. But you are saying, " How am I to be saved ?
What must I do ?" Well there is nothing that you can do.
You must leave off doing altogether, in order to be saved.
There must be a denial of all your doings. You must get
Christ first, and then you may do as much as you like. But
you must not trust in your doings. Your business is now to
lift up your heait in prayer like this: — "Lord, thou hast
shown me something of myself, show me something of my
Saviour." See the Saviour hanging on the cross, turn your
eye to bim, and say, " Lord, I trust thee ; I have nothing
else to trust to, but I rely on thee ; sink or swim, my Saviour,
I trust thee." And as surely, sinner, as thou caust put thy
318 THE BLOOD.
trust in Christy thou art as safe as an apostle or prophet. !N'ot
death nor hell can slay that man whose firm reliance is at the
foot of the cross. " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and
thou shalt be saved." " He that believeth and is baptized
shall be saved ; he that believeth not shall be damned." He
that believeth shall be saved, be his sins never so many ; he
that believeth not shall be damned, be his sins never so few,
and be his virtues never so many. Trust in Jesus now ! Sin-
ner, trust in Jesus only.
" Not all the blood of beasts
On Jewish altars slain,
Could give the gmlty conscience peace,
Or wash away the stain.
" But Christ, the heavenly Lamb,
^ Takes all our sins away ;
A sacrifice of nobler name,
And richer blood than they."
SERMON XX.
LOVE.
""We love him, because he first loved us." — 1 John, iv. 19.
During the last two Sabbath days, I have been preaching
the gospel to the unconverted. I have earnestly exhorted the
very chief of sinners to look to Jesus Christ, and have assured
them that as a preparation for coming to Christ, thoy need no
good works, or good dispositions, but that they may come,
just as they are, to the foot of the cross, and receive the par-
doning blood and all-sufficient merits of the Lord Jesus Christ.
The thought has since occurred to me, that some who were
ignorant of the gospel might, perhaps, put this query: — "Is
this likely to promote morality ? If the gospel be a proclama-
tion of pardon to the very chief of sinners, will not this be a
license to sin ? In what respects can the gospel be said to be
a gospel according to holiness? How will such preaching
operate ? Will it make men better ? Will they be more at-
tentive to the laws which relate to man and man ? Will they
be more obedient to the statutes that relate to man and God ?"
I thought, therefore, tliat we would advance a step further,
and endeavor to show, this morning, how the proclamation of
the gospel of God, though in the commencement it addresses
itself to men who are utterly destitute of any good, is, never-
theless, designed to lead these very men to the noblest heights
of virtue, yea, to ultimate perfection in holiness. The text
tells us, that the effect of the gospel received in the heart is,
that it compels and constrains such a heart to love God.
" We love him, because he first loved us." When the gospel
comes to us it does not find us loving God, it does not expect
any thing of us, but coming with the divine application of the
Holy Ghost, it simply assures us that God loves us, be we never
320 LOVE.
so deeply immersed in sin ; and then, the after effect of this
proclamation of love is, that " we love him because he first
loved us."
Can you imagine a being placed half-way between this world
and heaven ? Can you conceive of him as having such en-
larged capacities that he could easily discern what was done
in heaven, and what was done on earth ? I can conceive that,
before the fall, if there had been such a being, he would have
been struck with the singular harmony which existed between
God's great world, called heaven, and the little world, the earth*
Whenever the chimes of heaven rang, the great note of those
massive bells was love ; and when the little bells of earth
were sounded, and the harmonies of this narrow sphere rang
out their note, it w^as just the same — love. When the bright
spirits gathered around the great throne of God in heaven to
magnify the Lord, at the same tim.e there w^as to be seen the
world, clad in its priestly garments, offering its sacrifice of
purest praise. When the cherubim and seraphim did con-
tinually cry, " Holy, holy, holy. Lord God of armies," there
was heard a note, feebler, perhaps, but yet as sweetly musical,
coming up from Paradise, "Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of
armies." There was no jar, no discord ; the thunder peals of
heaven's melodies were exactly in accord with the whispers of
earth's harmonies. Tliere was " glory to God in the highest,"
and on earth there was glory too ; the heart of man was as
the heart of God ; God loved man, and man loved God. But
imagine that same great Spirit to be still standing between
the heavens and the earth, how sad must he be, when he hears
the jarring discord, and feels it grate upon the ear ! The
Lord saith, *' I am reconciled to thee, I have ptit away thy
sin ;" but what is the answer of this earth ? The answer of
the world is, " Man is at enmity with God : God may be rec-
onciled, but man is not. The mass of men are still enemies
to God by wicked works." When the angels praise God, if
they list to the sounds that are to be heard on earth, they
hear the trump of cruel war ; they hear the bacchanalian, shout
and the song of the lascivious ; and what a discord is this in
the great harmony of the spheres ! The fact is this — ^the world
LOVE. 321
was originally one great string in the harp of the universe,
and when the Almighty swept that hai-p with his gracious
fingers there was nothing to be heard but praise ; now that
string is snapped, and where it has been reset by grace, still it
is not wholly restored to its perfect tune, and the note that
Cometh from it hath but little of sweetness, and very much of
discord. But, O bright Spirit, retain thy place, and live on.
The day is hastening with glowing wheels, and the axle there-
of is hot with speed. The day is coming when this world
shall be a Paradise again. Jesus Chiist, who came the first
time to bleed and suffer, that he might wash the world from
its iniquity, is coming a second time to reign and conquer, that
he may clothe the earth with glory ; and the day shall arrive
when thou, O Spirit, shalt hear again the everlasting harmony.
Once more the bells of earth shall be attuned to the melodies
of heaven ; once more shall the eternal chorus find that no
singer is absent, but that the music is complete.
But how is this to be ? How is the world to be brought
back? How is it to be restored ? We answer, the reason why
there was this original harmony between earth and heaven
was, because there was love between them twain, and our
great reason for hoping that there shall be at last reestab-
lished an undiscordant harmony between heaven and earth is
simply this, that God hath already manifested his love towards
us, and that in return, hearts touched by his grace do even
now love him ; and when they shall be multiplied, and love
reestablished, then shall the harmony be complete.
Having thus introduced my text, I must now plunge into it.
We shall notice the parentrnje^ the nourishment^ and the walk
of love ; and shall exhort all believers here present, to love
God, because he hath first loved them.
I. In the fiitJt place, the parentage of true lo\^e to God.
There is no light in the planet but that which cometh from
the sun ; there is no light in the moon but that which is bor-
rowed ; and there is no true love in the heart but that which
cometh from God. Love is the light, the life, and way of the
universe. Now, God is botli life, and light, and way, and to
crown all, Oodis love. From this overflowing fountain of th^
14*
822 LOVE.
infinite love of God, all our love to God must spring. This
must ever be a great and certain truth, that we love him, for
no other reason than because he first loved us. There are some
that think that God might be loved by simple contemplation
of his works. We do not believe it. "We have heard a great
deal about admiring philosophers, and we have felt that admi-
ration Avas more than possible, when st,udying the works of
God. We have heard a great deal about wondering discov-
erers, and we have acknowledged that the mind must be base
indeed which does not wonder when it looks upon the works
of God ; and we have sometimes heard about a love to God
which has been engendered by the beauties of scenery, but we
have never believed in its existence. We do believe that where
love is already born in the heart of man, all the wonders ot
God's providence and creation may excite that love again, it
being there already ; but we do not and we can not believe,
because we never saw such an instance, that the mere contem-
plation of God's w^orks could ever raise any man to the height
of love. In fact, the great problem has been tried, and it has
been solved in the negative. What saith the poet ?
" "What though the spicy breezes blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ;
Though every prospect pleases, and only man is vile."
Where God is most resplendent in his works, and most lavish
in his gifts, there man has been the vilest, and God is the most
forgotten.
Others have taught, if not exactly in doctrine, yet their
doctrine necessarily leads to it, that human nature may of it-
self attain unto love to God. Our simple reply is, we have
never met with such an instance. We have curiously ques-
tioned the people of God, and we believe that others have
questioned them in every age, but we have never had but one
answer to this question, " Why hast thou loved God ?" The
only answer has been, " Because he first loved me." I have
heard men preach about free-will, but I never yet heard of a
Christian who exalted free-will in his own experience. I have
heard men say, that men of their own free-will may turn to
Godj believe, repent, and love, but I have heard the same
LOVE. 323
persons, when talking of their own experience, say, that they
did not so turn to God, but that Jesus sought them when
they were strangers wandering from the fold of God. The
whole matter may look specious enough, wlien preached, but
when felt, it is found to be a phantom. It may seem right
enough for a man to tell his fellow that his own free-will may
save him ; but when he comes to close dealing with his own
conscience, he himself, however wild in his doctrine, is com-
pelled to say, " Oh ! yes, I do love Jesus, because he first
loved me." I have wondered at a Wesleyan brother, who has
sometimes railed against this doctrine in the pulpit, and then
has given out this very hymn, and all the members of the
church have joined in singing it most heartily, while at the
same time they were tolling the death-knell of their own pecu-
liar tenets ; for if that hymn be true, Arminianism must be
false. If it be the certain fact, that the only reason for our
loving God is that his love has been shed abroad in our hearts,
then it can not be true anyhow, that man ever did or ever will
love God, until first of all God has manifested his love towards
him.
But without disputing any longer, do we not all admit that
our love to God is the sweet offspring of God's love to us?
Ah ! beloved, cold admiration every man may have ; but the
warmth of love can only be kindled by the fires of God's Spirit.
Let each Christian speak for himself — we shall all hold this
great and cardinal truth, that the reason of our love to God
is, the sweet influence of his grace. Sometimes I wonder that
such as we should have been brought to love God at all. Is
our love so precious that God should court our love, dressed
in the crimson robes of a dying Redeemer ? If we had loved
God, it would have been no more than he deserved. But
when we rebelled, and yet he sought our love, it was surpris-
ing indeed. It was a wonder when he disrobed himself of all
his splendors, and came down and wrapped himself in a mantle
of clay ; but methinks the wonder is excelled yet, for after he
had died for us, still we did not love him ; we rebelled against
him; we rejected the proclamation of the gospel ; we resisted his
Spirit ; but he said, I will have their hearts ; and he followed us
324 lov:e.
clay after day, hour after hour. Sometimes he laid us low, and he
' said, " Surely they will love me if I restore them !" At another
time he filled us with corn and with wine, and he said, " Surely
they will love me now," but we still j-evolted, still rebelled.
At last he said, " I will strive no longer, I am Almighty, and
I will not have it that a human heart is stronger than I am.
I turn the will of man as the rivers of water are turned ;" and
lo ! he put forth his strength, and in an instant the current
changed, and we loved him, because we then could see the
love of God, in that he sent his Son to be our Redeemer.
But we must confess, beloved, going back to the tiuth with
which we started, that never should we have had any love
towards God, unless that love had been sown in us by the
sweet seed of his love to us. If there be any one here that
hath a love to Christ, let him differ from this doctrine here,
but let him know that he shall not differ hereafter ; for in
heaven they all sing. Praise to free grace. They all sing,
" Salvation to our God and to the Lamb."
II. Love, then, has for its parent the love of God shed
abroad in our hearts. But after it is divinely born in our
heart it must be divinely noueished. Love is an exotic ; it
is not a plant that will flourish naturally in human soil. Love
to God is a rich and rare thing ; it would die if it were left to
be frost-bitten by the chilly blasts of our selfishness ; and if it
received no nourishment but that which can be drawn from
the rock of our own hard hearts it must perish. As love
comes from heaven, so it must feed on heavenly bread. It
can not exist in this wilderness, unless it is nutured from
above, and fied by maima from on high. On what, then, does
love feed ? Why, it feeds on love. That which brought it
forth becomes its food. " We love him because he first loved
us." The constant motive and sustaining power of our love
to God is his love to us. And here let me remark that there
are different kinds of food, in this great granary of love.
When we are fi]st of all renewed, the only food on" which we
can live is milk, because we are but babes, and as yet have
not strength to feed on higher truths.
The first thing, then, that our love feeds upon, when it is
LOVE. 325
but an inflnit, is a sense of favors received. Ask a young
Christian why he loves Christ, and lie will tell you, I love
Christ because he has bought me with his blood ! Why do
you love God the Father ? I love God the Father because
he gave his Son for me. And why do you love God the
Spirit ? I love him because he has renewed ray heart. That
is to say, we love God for what he has given us. Our first
love feeds just on the simple food of a grateful recollection ot
mercies received. And mark, however much we grow in
grace this will always constitute a great part of the food of
om* love.
But when the Christian grows older and has more grace, he
loves Christ for another reason. He loves Christ because he
feels Christ deserves to be loved. I trust I can say, I have in
my heart now a love to God, altogether apart from the matter
of my personal salvation. I feel that even now, I must love
him, for his character is so unutterably lovely. His love to
other people seems as if it would compel me to love him. To
think that he should love men at all is so great a thought, that
altogether apart from ray interest in it, I trust I can say that
I love Christ, having seen soraething of Christ in his offices,
and soraething of the rapturous beauties of his complex per-
son. I feel as if I could corae to his feet, and say, " Sweet
Lord, I loved thee first, because of thy gifts to me ; but now
I love thee because thou art altogether lovely. Thou hast
entranced my soul with the look of thine eyes, thou hast enrap-
tured my spirit with the glories of thy person ; and now I
love thee, not merely because I have eaten of thy bread, and
thou hast supplied my wants, but I love thee for what thou
art." But mark, at the same time, we must always mingle
with this the old motive. We must still feel that we begin
with that first stepping stone, loving Christ because of his
mercies, and that although we have climbed higher, and have
come to love him with a love that is supeiior to that in mo-
tive, yet still we cairy the old motive with us. We love him
because of his kindness towards us. Why, I do thhik that it
is possible for a man, filled with the love of Christ in his heart,
and girded by divine grace, to soar to such a degree of love
326 LOVE.
to Chiist, that if you could hear him speak, you would sit and
wonder, as though an angel spoke to you. Did you ever read
the divine letters of Rutherford ? I do think, if there remains
among men a remnant of the ancient inspiration that guided
the pen of Solomon, it rested upon the head of Rutherford.
If you read the sonnets of sweet George Herbert, oh, how
sweetly does he sing of his Master. If there be any of the
heavenly harps left by accident on earth, Geoi'ge Herbert
found one, and he touched the living strings with such divine
excellency of judgment, that he made every string find out
his Master. These men did not merely love Christ because of
what he had done for them ; but you will find in their sonnets
and in their letters, that their motive of love was, that he
had communed with them, he had showed them his hands
and his side ; they had walked with him in the villages ; they
had lain with him on the beds of spices ; they had entered
into the mystic circle of communion ; and they felt that they
loved Christ, because he was all over glorious, and was so
divinely fair, that if all nations could behold him, sure they
must be constrained to love him too.
This,' then, is the food of love ; but when love grows rich
— and it does sometimes — the most loving heart grows cold
towards Christ. Do you know that the only food that ever
suits sick love, is the food on which it fed at first ? I have
heard say by the physicians, that if a man be sick there is no
place so well adapted for him as the place where he was born ;
and if love grows sick and cold, there is no place so fit for it
to go to as the j)lace where it was born, namely, the love of
God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Where was love born ? Was
she bom in the midst of romantic scenery, and was she nursed
with wondrous contemplations upon the lap of beauty ? Ah !
no. Was she born on the steeps of Sinai, when God came
from Sinai,, and the Holy One from mount Paran, and melted
the mountains with the touch of his foot, and made the rocks
flow down like wax before his terrible presence ? Ah ! no.
Was love born «n Tabor, when the Saviour was transfigured,
and his garment became whiter than wool, whiter than any
fuller could make it ? Ah! no: darkness rushed o'er the
LOVE. 327
sight of those that looked upon him then, and they fell asleep,
for the glory overpowered them. Let me tell you where love
was born. Love was born in the garden of Gethsemane,
where Jesus sweat great drops of blood ; it was nurtured in
Pilate's hall, where Jesus bared his back to the plowing ot
the lash, and gave his body to be spit upon and scourged.
Love was nurtured at the cross, amid the groans of an expir-
ing God, beneath the droppings of his blood — it w^as there
that love was nurtured. Bear me witness, children of God.
"Where did your love spring from, but from the foot of the
cross ? Did you ever see that sweet flower growing any-
where but at the foot of Calvary ? No ; it was when ye saw
"love divine, all loves excelling," outdoing its own self; it
was when you saw love in bondage to itself, dying by its own
stroke, laying down its life, though it had power to retain it
and to take it up again ; it was there your love was born ;
and if you wish your love, when it is sick, to be recovered,
take it to some of those sweet places ; make it sit in the shade
of the olive trees, and make it stand on the Pavement and
gaze, while the blood is still gushing down. Take it to the
cross, and bid it look and see afresh the bleeding lamb ; and
surely this shall make thy love spring from a dwarf into a
giant, and this shall fan it from a spark into a flame.
And then, when thy love is thus recruited, let me bid thee
give thy love full exercise ; for it shall grow thereby. You
say, "Where shall I exercise the contemplation of my love, to
make it grow ?" Oh 1 sacred dove of love, stretch thy wings,
and play the eagle now. Come ! open wide thine eyes, and
look full into the sun's face, and soar upward, upward, up-
ward, far above the heights of this world's creation, upwards,
till thou art lost in eternity. Remember, that God loved thee
from before the foundation of the world. Does not this
strengthen thy love ? Ah ! what a bracing air is that air of
eternity ! When I fly into it for a moment, and think of the
great doctrine of election — of
" That vast unmeasured love, which, from the days of old,
Did all the chosen seed embrace, like sheep within the fold, "
328 LOVE.
it makes the tears run down one's cheeks to think that we
should have an interest in that decree and council of the Al-
mighty Three, 'svhen every one that should be blood-bought
had his name inscribed in God's eternal book. Come, soul, I
bid thee now exercise thy wings a little, and see if this does
not make thee love God. He thought of thee before thou
hadst a being. When as yet the sun and the moon were not
— when the sun, the moon, and the stars slept in the mind of
God, like unborn forests in an acorn cup — when the old sea
was not yet born — long ere this infant world lay in its swad-
dling bands of mist, then God had inscribed thy name upon
the heart and upon the hands of Christ indelibly, to remain for
ever. And does not this make thee love God ? Is not this
sweet exercise for thy love ? for here it is my text comes in,
giving, as it were, the last charge in this sweet battle of love —
a charge that sweeps every thing before it. " We love God,
because he first loved us," seeing that he loved us before time
began, and when in eternity he dwelt alone.
And when thou hast soared backward into the past eternity,
I have yet another flight for thee. Soar back through all
thine own experience, and think of the way whereby the Lord
thy God hath led thee in the wilderness, and how he hath fed
and clothed thee every day — how he hath borne with thine ill
manners — how he hath put up with all thy murmurings, and
all thy longings after the flesh-pots of Egypt — how he hath
opened the rock to supply thee, and fed thee with manna
that came down from heaven. Think of how his grace has
been sufficient for thee in all thy troubles — how his blood has
been a pardon to thee in all thy sins — how his rod and his
staff have comforted thee. And when thou hast flown over
this sweet field of love, thou mayest fly further on, and re-
member that the oath, the covenant, the blood, have some-
thing more in them than the past, for though " he first loved
us," yet this doth not mean that he shall ever cease to love, for
he is Alpha, and he shall be Omega, he is first, and he shall be
last; and therefore bethink thee, when thou shalt pass through
the valley of the shadow of death, thou needest fear no evil,
for he is with thee. When thou shalt stand in the cold floods
LOVE. 320
of Jordan, thou needest not fear, for death can not separate
thee from his love ; and when thou shalt come into the mys-
teries of eternity thou needest not tremble, for " I am per-
suaded that neither principalities, nor powers, nor things
present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any
other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of
God w^hioh is in Christ Jesus our Lord." And now, soul, is
not thy love refreshed ? Does not this make thee love him ?
Doth not a flight over those illimitable plains of the ether of
love, inflame thy heart, and compel thee to delight thyself in
the Lord thy God ? Here is the food of love. " We love him,
because he first loved us," and because in that first love there
is the pledge and promise that he will love us even to the end.
III. And now comes the third point, the walk of love.
" We love him." Children of God, if Christ were here on
earth, what would you do for him ? If it should be rumored
to-morrow that the Son of man had come down from heaven,
as he came at first, what would you do for him ? If there
should be an infallible witness that the feet that trod the holy
acres of Palestine were actually treading the roads of this
land, what would you do for him ? Oh, I can conceive that
there would be a tumult of delighted hearts — a superabun-
dance of liberal hands — that there would be a sea of stream-
ing e} es to behold him. " Do for him !" says one. " Do
for him ! Did he hunger, I would give him meat, though
it were ray last crust. Did he thirst, I w^ould give him
drink, though my own lips were parched with fire. Was
he naked, I would strip myself and shiver in the cold to clothe
him. Do for him ! I should scarcely know what to do. I
would hurry away, and I Avould cast myself at his dear feet,
and I would beseech him, if it would but honor him, that he
would tread upon iSe, and crush me in the dust, if he would
but be raised one inch the higher thereby. Did he want a
soldier, I would enlist in his army ; did he need that some one
should die, I would give my body to be burned, if he stood
by to see the sacrifice and cheer me in the flames." O ye
daughters of Jerusalem ! would ye not go forth to meet him ?
would ye not rejoice with the tabret, and in the dance?
330 LOVE.
Dance then ye might, like Miriam, by the side of Egypt's
waters, red with blood. We, the sons of men, would dance
like David before the ark, exulting for joy, if Christ were
come. Ah ! we think we love him so much that we should do
all that ; but there is a grave question about the truth of this
matter after all. Do you not know that Christ's wife and
family ai-e here ? And if ye love him, would it not follow as a
natural inference, that ye would love his bride and his offspring ?
"Ah !" says one, "Christ has no bride upon earth." Has he
not ? Has he not espoused unto himself his church f Is not
his church, the mother of the faithful, his own chosen wife ?
And did he not give his blood to be her dower? And has he
not declared that he never will be divorced from her, for he
hates to put away, and that he will consummate the marriage
in the last great day, when he shall come to reign with his
people upon the earth. And has he no children here? "The
daughters of Jerusalem and the sons of Zion, who hath be-
gotten me these ? Are not they the offspring of the ever-
lasting Father, the Prince of Peace, the child born, the son
given ?" Surely they are ; and if we love Christ as we think
we do, as we pretend we do, we shall love his church and
people. And do you love his church ? Perhaps you love the
part to which you belong. You love the hand. It may be a
hand which is garnished with many a brilliant ring of noble
ceremonies, and you love that. You may belong to some
poor, poverty-stricken denomination — it may be the foot — and
you love the foot; but you speak contem2:»tuously of the hand,
because it is garnished with greater honors. Whilst perhaps ye
of the hand are speaking lightly of those who are of the foot.
Brethren, it is a common thing with us all to love only a part
of Christ's body, and not to love the whole ; but if we love
him we should love all his people.
When we are on bur knees in prayer, I fear that when we
are praying for the church we do not mean all that we say.
We are praying for our church, our section of it. Novv% he
that loves Christ, if he be a Baptist, he loves the doctrine
of baptism, because he knows it to be scriptural ; but at the
same time, wherever he sees the grace of God to be in any
LOVE. 331
man's heart, he loves him because he is a part of the living
church, and he does not withhold his heart, his hand, or his
house from bim, because he happens to differ on some one
point. I pray that the church in these days may have a more
loving spirit towards herself. We ought to delight in the
advance of every denomination. Is the Church of England
rousing from its sleep ? Is she springing, like a phenix, from
her ashes ? God be with her, and God bless her ! Is another
denomination leading the van, and seeking by its ministers to
entice the wanderer into the house of God ? God be with it !
Is the Methodist laboring in the hedge and ditch, toiling for
his Master ? God help him ! Is the Calvinist seeking to up-
hold Christ crucified in all his splendors ? God be with him !
And does another man with far less knowledge preach much
error, but still hold that " by grace are ye saved through
faith," then God bless him, and may success be Tvdth him ever-
more. If ye loved Christ better, ye would love all Christ's
church, and all Christ's people.
Do you not know that Christ hath now a mouth on earth,
and hath left a hand on earth, and a foot on earth still, and that
if ye would prove your love to him, ye would not think that
ye can not feed him — ye need not imagine that ye can not
fill his hand, or that ye can not wash his feet ? Ye can do all
this to-day. He has left his poor and afflicted people, and
their mouths are hungry, for they need bread, and their tongue
is parched for they need water. You meet them ; they come
to you ; they are destitute and afflicted. Do ye refuse them ?
Do you know who it was ye denied at your door ? " Inasmuch
as ye did it not unto one of the least of these, my brethren,
ye did it not to me." In rejecting the petition of the poor,
when you might have helped them, you rejected Christ.
Christ was virtually the man to whom you parsimoniously re-
fused the needed alms, and your Saviour was thus rejected at
the door of one for whom he himself had died. Do you want
to feed Christ ? Open your eyes, then, and you shall see him
everywhere ; in our back streets, in our lanes, in our alleys, in
all our churches, connected with every branch of Christ's peo-
ple, ye shall find the poor and the afflicted. If ye want to
332 LOVE.
feed Christ, feed them. But ye say that ye are willing to wash
Christ's feet. Ah ! well, and ye may do it. Has he no fallen
children ? Are there no brethren who have sinned, and who
are thus defiled ? If Christ's feet were foul, ye say, ye would
wash them ; then if a Christian man has stepped aside, seek
to restore him, and lead him once more in the way of right-
eousness. And do you want to fill Christ's hands with your
liberality ? His church is the treasure-house of his alms, and
the hand of his church is outstretched for help, for she always
needs it. She has a work to do which must be accomplished.
She is straitened because your help is withheld from her;
pour your gifts into her treasury, for all that ye can give unto
her is given to the Lord Jesus Christ.
Finally, to stimulate your love, let me remind you that
Christ Jesus had two trials of his love, which he endured with
firmness, but which are often too much for us. When Christ
was high, and glorious, I marvel that he loved us. I have
known many a man who loved his friend when he was in the
same low estate ; but he has risen, and he has disdained to
know the man at whose table he had fed. A lofty eleva-
tion tries the love which we bear to those who are inferior to
us in rank. Now, Christ Jesus, the Lord of heaven and the
King of angels, condescended to notice us before he came on
earth, and always called us brethren : and since he has as-
cended up to heaven, and has reassumed the diadem, and
once more sits down at the right hand of God, he never has
forgotten us. His high estate has never made him slight a
disciple. When he rode into Jerusalem in triumph, we do
not read that he disdained to confess that the humble fisher-
men were his followers. And " now, though he reigns exalt-
ed high, his love is still as great ;" still he calls us brethren,
friends ; still he recognizes the kinship of the one blood. And
yet, strange to say, we have known many Christians who have
forgotten much of their love to Christ when they have risen
in the world. " Ah !" said a woman, who had been wont to do
much for Christ in poverty, and who had had a great sum left
her, " I can not do as much as I used to do." " But how is
that?" said one. Said she, "When I had a shilling purse I
LOVE. 333
had a guinea heai*t, but now I have a guinea purse I have only
a shilling heart." It is a sad temptation to some men to get
rich. They were content to go to the meeting-house and mix
with the ignoble congregation, while they had but little ; they
have grown rich ; there is a Turkey carpet in the drawing-
room ; they have arrangements now too splendid to permit
them to invite the poor of the flock, as they once did, and
Christ Jesus is not so fashionable as to allow them to intro-
duce any religious topic when they meet with their new
friends. Besides this, they say they are now obliged to pay
this \'isit and that visit, and they must spend so much time
upon attire, and in maintaining their station and respectabil-
ity, they can not find time to pray as they did. The house
of God has to be neglected for the party, and Christ has less
of their heart than ever he had. " Is this thy kindness to thy
friend ?" And hast thou risen so high that thou art ashamed
of Christ ? and art thou grown so rich, that Christ in his pov-
erty is despised? Alas! poor wealth! alas! base wealth!
alas ! vile wealth ! 'Twere well for thee if it should be all
swept away, if a descent to poverty should be a restoration
to the ardency of thine affection.
But once again : what a trial of love was that, when Christ
began to suffer for us ! There are many men, I doubt not,
who are true believers, and love their Saviour, who would
tremble to come to the test of suffering. Imagine yourself,
my brother, taken to-day into some dark dungeon of the In-
quisition ; conceive that all the horrors ot the dark ages are
revived ; you are taken down a long, dark stair-case, and hur-
ried you know not whither ; at last you come to a place, far
deep in the bowels of the earth, and round about you see
hanging on the walls the pincers, the instruments of torture of
all kinds and shapes. There are two inquisitors there, who say
to you, " Are you prepared to renounce your heretical faith,
and to return to the bosom of the church ?" I conceive, my
brethren and sisters, that you would have strength of mind
and grace enough to say, " I am not prepared to deny my
Saviour." But when the pincers began to tear the flesh, when
the hot coals began to scorch, when the rack began to dislo-
334 LOYE.
cate the bones; when all the instruments of torture were
wreaking their hellish vengeance, unless the supernatural hand
of God should be mightily upon you, I am sure that in your
weakness you would deny your Master, and in the hour of peril
would forsake the Lord that bought you. True, the love of
Christ in the heart, when sustained by his grace, is strong
enough to bear us through ; but I am afi-aid that with many
of us here present, if we had no more love than we have now,
we should come out from the Inquisition miserable apostates
from the faith. But now remember Christ. He was exposed
to tortures, winch were really more tremendous, far. There
is no engine of Romish cruelty that can equal that dreadful tor-
ture which forced a sweat of blood from every pore. Christ
was scourged and he was crucified ; but there were other woes
unseen by us, which were the soul of his agonies. Now, if
Christ in the hour of sore trial had said, " I disown my disci-
ples, I will not die," he might have come down from the cross ;
and who could accuse him of evil? He owed us nothing ; we
could do nothing for him. Poor worms would be all that he
would disown. But our Master, even when the blood-sweat
covered him as with a mantle of gore, never thought of dis-
owning us — NEVER. " My Father," said he once, " if it be
possible, let this cup pass from me." But there was always
the "if it be possible." If it be possible to save without it,
let the cup pass ; but if not, thy will be done. You never
hear him say in Pilate's hall one word that would let you im-
agine that he was sorry he had undertaken so costly a sacri-
fice for us ; and when his hands are pierced, and when he is
parched with fever, and his tongue is dried up like a potsherd,
and his whole body is dissolved into the dust of death, you
never hear a groan or a shriek that looks like going back. It
is the cry of one determined to go on, though he knows he
must die on his onward march. It w^as love that could not be
staid by death, but overcame all the horrors of the grave.
Now, what say we to this ? We who live in these gentler,
times are we about to give up our Master, when we are tried
and tempted for him ? Young man in the workshop ! it is your
lot to be jeered at because you are a follower of the Saviour ;
LOVE. 335
and will you turn back from Christ becaiLse of a jeer ? Young
woman ! you are laughed at because you profess the religion of
Cln-ist ; shall a laugh dissolve the link of love that knits you to
him, when all the roar of hell could not divert his love from
you? And you who are suffering because you maintain a re-
ligious principle, are you cast out from men ? will you not bear
that the house should be stripj:)ed, and that you shall eat the
bread of poverty, rather than dishonor such a Lord ? Will
you not go forth from this place, by the help of God's Spirit,
vowing and declaring that in life, come poverty, come wealth
— in death, come pain, or come what may, you are and ever
must be the Lord's ? for this is written on your heart, " We
love him, because he fii'st loved us."
SEEMON XXI.
THE GREAT EEVIVAL.
" The Lord hath made bare his holy arm in the eyes of all the nations ;
and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God." — Isaiah,
lii. 10.
When the heroes of old prepared for the fight, they put on
their armor ; but whea God prepares for battle he makes bare
bis arm. Man has to look two ways — to his own defense, as
well as to the offense of his enemy ; God hath but one direc-
tion in which to cast his eye — the overthrow of his foeman ;
and he disregards all measures of defense, and scorns all
armor. He makes hare his arm in the sight of all the people.
When men would do their work in earnest, too, they some-
times strip themselves, like that warrior of old, who, when he
went out to battle with the Turks, would never fight them except
with the bare arm. " Such things as they," said he, " I need
not fear ; they have more reason to fear my bare arm than I
their cimeter." Men feel that they are prepared for a work
when they have cast away their cumbrous garments. And so
the prophet represents the Lord as laying aside for awhile the
garments of his dignity, and making bare his arm, that he
may do his work in earnest, and accomplish his purpose for
the establishment of his church.
Now, lea\ ing the figure, which is a very great one, I would
remind you that its meaning is fully carried out, whenever
God is pleased to send a great revival of religion. My heart
is glad within me this day, for I am the bearer of good tidings.
My soul has been made exceedingly full of happiness, by the
tidings of a great revival of religion throughout the United
States. Some hundred years, or more, ago, it pleased the
Lord to send one of the most marvelous religious awakenings
'that was ever known ; the whole of the United States seemed
THE GKEAT REVIVAL. 337
sLaken from end to end with enthusiasm for hearing the Word
of God ; and now, after the lapse of a century, the Hke has
occurred again. The monetary pressure has at length de-
parted ; but it has left behind it the wreck of many mighty
fortunes. Many men, who w^ere once princes, have now be-
come beggars, and in Americn, more than in England, men
have learned the instability of all human things. The minds
of men, thus weaned from the earth by terrible and unexpected
panic, seem prepared to receive tidings from a better land, and
to turn their exertions in a heavenly direction. You will be
told by any one who is conversant with the present state of
America, that w^herever you go there are the most remarkable
signs that religion is progressing with majestic strides. The
great revival, as it is now called, has become the common
market talk of merchants ; it is the theme of every newspaper ;
even the secular press remark it, for it has become so astonish-
ing that all ranks and classes of men seem to have been affected
by it. Apparently without any cause whatever, fear has taken
hold of the hearts of men ; a thrill seems to be shot through
every breast at once ; and it is affirmed by men of good repute,
that there are, at this time, towns in New England where you
could not, even if you searched, find one solitary unconverted
person. So marvelous — I had almost said, so miraculous —
has been the sudden and instantaneous spread of religion
throughout the great empire,* that it is scarcely possible for us
to believe the half of it, even though it should be told us.
Now, as you are aware, I have at all times been peculiarly
jealous and suspicious of revivals. Whenever I see a man who
is called a revivalist, I always set him down for a cipher. I
would scorn the taking of such a title as that to myself. If
God pleases to make use of a man for the promoting of a re-
vival, well and good ; but for any man to assume the title and
office of a revivalist, and go about the country, believing that
wherever he goes he is the vessel of meixjy appointed to convey
a revival of religion, is, I think, an assumption far too arrogant
for any man who has the slightest degree of modesty. And
again, there are a large number of revivals, which occur every
now and then in our towns, and sometimes in our city, which
16
338 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
I believe to be spurious and worthless. I have heard of the
people crowding in the morning, the afternoon and the evening
to hear some noted revivaUst, and under his preaching some
have screamed, have shrieked, have fallen down on the floor,
have rolled themselves in convulsions, and afterwards, when
he has set a form for penitents, employing one or two decoy-
ducks to run out from the rest and make a confession of sin,
hundreds have come forward, impressed by that one sermon,
and declared that they were, there and then, turned from the
error of their ways ; and it was only last w^eek I saw a record
of a certain place, in our own country, giving an account, that
on such a day, under the preaching of the Rev. Mr. So-and-so,
seventeen persons were thoroughly sanctified, twenty-eight
were convinced of sin, and twenty-nine received the blessing
of justification. Then come, the next day, so many more ;
the following day so many more ; and afterwards they are all
cast up together, making a grand total of some hundreds, who
have been blessed during three services, under the ministry of
Mr. So-and-so. All that I call farce ! There may be some-
thing very good in it ; but the outside looks to me to be so
rotten, that I should scarcely trust myself to think that the
good within comes to any very great amount. When people
go to work to calculate so exactly by arithmetic, it always
strikes me they have mistaken what they are at. We may
easily say that so many were added to the church on a certain
occasion, but to take a separate census of the convinced, the
justified and the sanctified, is absurd. You will, therefore, be
surprised at finding me speaking of revival ; but you will,
perhaps, not be quite so surprised when I endeavor to explain
what I mean by an earnest and intense desire, which I feel in
my heart, that God would be pleased to send throughout this
country a revival like that which has just commenced in
America, and which, we trust, will long continue there.
I should endeavor to mark, in the first place, the cause of
every revival of true religion / secondly, the consequences of
such revival ; then, thirdly, I shall give a caution or two^ that
we make not mistake in this matter, and conceive that to be
God's work which is only man's ; and then I shall conclude
THE GREAT REVIVAL. 339
by making an exhortation to all my brethren in the faith of
Christ, to labor and pray for a revival of religion in the midst
of our churclies.
I. First, then, the cause of a tPwUE revival. The mere
worldly man does not understand a revival ; he can not make
it out. Why is it, that a sudden fit of godliness, as he would
call it, a kind of sacred epidemic, should seize upon a mass of
people all at once ? What can be the cause of it ? It fre-
quently occurs in the absence of all great evangelists ; it can
not be traced to any particular means. There have been no
special agencies used in order to bring it about — no machinery
supplied, no societies established ; and yet it has come, just
like a heavenly hyrricane, sweeping every thing before it. It
has rushed across the land, and of it men have said, " The
wind bloweth where it listeth ; we hear the sound thereof, but
we can not tell whence it cometh or wiiither it goeth." What
is, then, the cause ? Our answer is, if a revival be true and
real, it is caused by the Holy Spirit, and by him alone. When
Peter stood up on the day of Pentecost, and j^reached that
memorable sermon by which three thousand persons were
converted, can we attribute the remarkable success of his
ministry to anything else but the ministry of the Holy Spirit ?
I read the notes of Peter's discourse ; it was certainly very
simple ; it was a plain narration of facts ; it was certainly very
bold, very cutting, and pointed, and personal, for lie did not
blush to tell them that they had put to death the Lord of life
and glory, and were guilty of his blood ; but on the mere
surface of the thing, I should be apt to say that I had read
many a sermon far more likely to be effective than Peter's ;
and I believe there have been many preachers who have lived,
whose sermons when read would have been far more notable
and far more regarded, at least by the critic, than the sermon
of Peter. It seems to have been exceedingly simple and
suitable, and extremely earnest, but none of these things are
so eminently remarkable as to be the cause of such extraordi-
nary success.
What, then, was the reason ? And we reply, once more,
the same word which the Holy Spirit blesses to the conversion
840 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
of one, ne migiit, if he pleased, bless to the conversion of a
thousand : and I am persuaded that the meanest preacher in
Christendom might come into this pulpit this morning, and
preach the most simple sermon, in the most uneducated style,
and the Holy Spirit, if he so willed it, might bless the sermon
to the conversion of every man, woman, and child, within this
place : for his arm is not shortened, his power is not straitened,
and as long as he is Omnii^otent, it is ours to believe that he
can do whatsoever seemeth him good. Do not imagine, when
you hear of a sermon being made useful, that it was the ser-
mon itself that did the work. Conceive not, because a certain
preacher may have been greatly blessed for the conversion of
souls, that there is any thing in the preacher. God forbid that
any preacher should arrogate such a thing to himself. Any
other preacher, blessed in the same manner, would be as use-
ful, and any other sermon, provided it be truthful and earnest,
might be as much blessed as that particular sermon which has
become notable by reason of the multitudes who by it have
been brought to Christ. The Spirit of God, when he pleaseth,
blows upon the sons of men. He finds a people hard and care-
less ; he casts a desire into their minds — -he sows it broadcast
into their spirits — a thought towards the house of the Lord,
and straightway, they know not why, they flock in multitudes
to hear the Word preached. He casts the seed, the same seed,
into the preacher's mind, and he knows not how, but he feels
more earnest than he did before. When he goes to his pulpit,
he goes to it as to a solemn sacrifice, and there he preaches,
believing that great things will be the efi'ect of his ministry.
The time of prayer cometh round ; Christians are found meet-
ing together in large numbers ; they can not tell what it is
that influences them, but they feel they^must go up to the
house of the Lord to pray. There are earnest prayers lifted
up ; there are earnest sermons preached, and there are earnest
hearers. Then God the Almighty One is pleased to soften
hard hearts, and subdue the stout-hearted, and bring them to
know the truth. The only real cause is, his Spirit working in
the minds of men.
But while this is the only actual cause, yet there are instru-
THE GKEAT BEYIVAL. 341
mental causes; and the main instrumental cause of a great re-
vival must be the bold, faithful, fearless preaching of the truth
as it is in Jesus. AVhy, brethren, we want every now and
then to have a reformation. One reformation will never serve
the church ; she needs continually to be wound up, and set
a-going afresh ; for her works run down, and she does not act
as she used to do. The bold, bald doctrines that Luther brought
out, began at last to be a little modified, until lay after layer
was deposited upon them, and at last the old rocky truth was
covered up, and there grew up6h the superficial subsoil an
abundance of green and flowery errors, that looked fair and
beautiful, but were in no way whatever related to the truth,
except as they wore the products of its decay. Then there
came bold men who brought the truth out again, and said,
" Clear away this rubbish ; let the blast light upon these de-
ceitful beauties ; we want them not ; bring out the old truth
once more !" And it came out. But the tendency of the
church perpetually is, to be covering up its own naked sim-
plicity, forgetting that the truth is never so beautiful as when
it stands in its own unadorned, God-given glory. And now,
at this time, we want to have the old truths restored to their
places. The subtleties and the refinements of the .preacher
must be laid aside. We must give up the grand distinctions
of the schoolmen, and all the lettered technicalities of men
who have studied theology as a system, but have not felt the
power of it in their hearts ; and when the good old truth is
once more preached by men whose lips are touched as with a
live coal from off the altar, this shall be the instrument, in the
liand of the Spirit, for bringing about a great and thorough
revival of religion in the land.
But added to this, there must be the earnest i-)rayers of the
church. All in vain the most indefatigable ministry, unless
the church waters the seed sown, with her abundant tears.
Every revival has been commenced and attended by a large
amount of prayer. Jm the city of New York at the present
moment, there is not, I believe, one single hour of the day,
wherein Christians are not gathered together for prayer. One
church opens its doora from five o'clock till six, for prayer ;
342 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
another church opens from six to seven, and summons its pray-
ing men to offer the sacrifice of supplication. Six o'clock is
past, and men are gone to their labor. Another class find it
then convenient — such as those, perhaps, who go to business
at eight or nine — and from seven to eight there is another
j)rayer meeting. From eight to nine there is another, in
another part of the city ; and what is most marvelous, at high
noon, from twelve to one, in the midst of the city of New
York, there is held a prayer meeting in a large room, which
is crammed to the doors every day, with hundreds standing
outside. This prayer meeting is made u}) of merchants of the
city, who can spare a quarter of an hour to go in and say a
word of prayer, and then leave again ; and then a fresh com-
pany come in to fill up the ranks, so that it is supposed that
many hundreds assemble in that one place for prayer during
the appointed hour. This is the explanation of the revival.
If this were done in London — if we for once would outvie old
Rome, who kept her monks in her sanctuaries, always at
prayer, both by night and by day — if we together could keep
up one golden chain of prayer, link after link of holy brother-
hood being joined together in supj)lication, then might we ex-
pect an abundant outpouring of the divine Spirit from the
Lord our God. The Holy Spirit, as the actual agent — the
Word preached, and the prayers of the people, as the instru-
ments — and we have thus explained the cause of a true revival
of rehgion.
II. But now w^hat are the coj^sequexces of a revival op
RELIGION ? Why the consequences are every thing that our
hearts could desire for the church's good. When a revival
of religion comes into a nation, the minister begins to be
warmed. It is said that in America the most slee]3y preachers
have begun to wake up ; they have warmed themselves at the
general fire, and men who could not preach without notes, and
could not preach with them to any purpose at all, have found
it in their hearts to speak right out, sltM speak with all their
might to the people. When there comes a revival, the minis-
ter all of a sudden finds that the usual forms and convention-
alities of the pulpit are not exactly suitable to the times. He
THE GREAT REVIVAL. 343
breaks through one hedge ; then he finds himself in an awk-
ward position, and he has to break through another. He finds
himself perhaps on a Sunday morning, though a Doctor of
Divinity, actually telling an anecdote — lowering the dignity
of the pulpit by actually using a simile or metaphor — some-
times perhaps accidentally making his people smile, and what
is also a great sin in these solid theologians, now and then
dropping a tear. He does not exactly know how it is, but the
people catch up his words. " I must have something good for
them," he says. He just burns that old lot of sermons ; or he
puts them under the bed, and gets some new ones, or gets
none at all, but just gets his text, and begins to cry, " Men
and brethren, believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and you shall
be saved." The old deacons say, " What is the matter with
our minister ?" The old ladies, who have heard him for many
years, and slept in the front of the gallery so regularly, begin to
rouse, and say, "I wonder what has happened to himj how
can it be ? Why, he preaches like a man on fii-Q. The tear
runs over at his eye ; his soul is full of love for souls." They
can not make it out ; they have often said he was dull and
dreary and drowsy. How is it all this is changed ? "^Vliy, it
is the revival. The revival has touched the minister ; the sun,
shining so brightly, lias melted some of the snow on the moun-
tain-top, and it is running down in fertilizing streams, to bless
the valleys ; and the people down below are refreshed by the
ministrations of the man of God who has awakened himself
up from his sleep, and finds himself, like another Elijah, made
strong for forty days' labor. Well, then, directly after that the
revival begins to touch the people at large. The congregation
was once numbered by the empty seats, rather than by the
full ones. But on a sudden — the minister does not under
stand it — he finds the people coming to hear him. He never
was popular, never hoped to be. All at once he wakes up and
finds himself famous, so far as a large congregation can make
him so. There are the people, and how they listen I They
are all awake, all in earnest ; they lean their heads forward,
they put their hands to their ears. His voice is feeble ; they
try to help him ; they arc doing any thing so that they may
344 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
hear the Word of Life. And then the members of the church
open their eyes and see the house full, and they say, " How
has this come about ? We ought to pray." A prayer meet-
ing is summoned. There have been five or six in the vestry :
now there are five or six hundred, and they turn into the
church. And oh ! how they pray ! That old stager, who
used to pray for twenty minutes, finds it now convenient to
confine himself to five ; and that good old man, who always
used to repeat the same form of prayer when he stood up, and
talked about the horse that rushed into battle, and the oil
from vessel to vessel, and all that, leaves all these things at
home, and just prays, " O Lord, save sinners," for Jesus Christ's
sake." And there are sobs and groans heard in the prayer
meetings. It is evident that not one, but all, are praying ; the
whole mass seems moved to sujoplication. How is this again ?
W^hy, it is just the effect of the revival, for when the revival
truly comes, the minister and the congregation and the church
will receive good by it.
But it does not end here. The members of the church
grow more solemn, more serious. Family duties are better
attended to ; the home circle is brought under better culture.
Those who could not spare time for family prayer, find they
can do so now ; those who had no opportunity for teaching
their children, now dare not go a day without doing it, for
they hear that there are children converted in the Sabbath
School. There are twice as many in the Sabbath School now
as there used to be ; and what is wonderful, the little children
meet together to pray ; their little hearts are touched, and
many of them show signs of a work of grace begun ; and
fathers and mothers think they must try what they can do for
their families : if God is blessing little children, why should
he not bless theirs ?
And then, when you see the members of the church going
up to the house of God, you mark Avith what a steady and
sober air they go. Perhaps they talk on the way, but they
talk of Jesus ; and if they whisper together at the gates of
the sanctuary, it is no longer idle gossip ; it is no remark
about, " how do you like the preacher ? What did you think
TUE GREAT REVIVAL. 345
of him ? Did you notice So-and-so ?" Ob, no ! "I pray the
Lord that he miglit bless the word of his servant, that he
might send an unction from on high, tliat the dying flame may
be kindled, and that where there is life, it may be promoted
and strengthened, and receive fresh vigor." This is their
whole conversation.
And then comes the great result. There is an inquirers'
meeting held : the good brother who presides over it is aston-
ished ; he never saw so many coming in his life before.
" AVTiy," says he, " there is a hundred, at least, come to con-
fess what the Lord has done for their souls ! Here are fifty
come all at once to say that under such a sermon they were
brought to the knowledge of the truth. "Who hath begotten
me these ? How hath it come about ? IIow can it be ? Is
not the Lord a great God that hath wrought such a work as
this ?" And then the converts who are thus brought into the
church, if the revival continues are very earnest ones. You
never saw such a people. The outsiders call them fanatics. It
is a blessed fanaticism. Others say, they are nothing but en-
thusiasts. It is a heavenly enthusiasm. Every thing that is
done is done with such spirit. If they sing, it is like the
crashing thunder; if they pray, it is like the swift, sharp flash
of lightning, lighting up the darkness of the cold-hearted, and
making them for a moment feel that there is something in
prayer. When the minister preaches, he preaches like a Bo-
anerges, and when the church is gathered together, it is with
a hearty good will. When they give, they give with enlat-ged
liberality ; when they visit the sick, they do it with gentleness,
meekness, and love. Every thing is done with a single eye to
God's gloiy; not of men, but by the power of God. Oh!
that we might see such a revival as this !
But, blessed be God, it does not end here. The revival of
the church then touches the rest of society. Men who do not
come forward and profess religion, are more punctual in at-
tending the means of grace. Men that used to swear, give it
up ; they find it is not suitable for the times. Men that pro-
faned the Sabbath, and that despised God, find it will not do ;
they give it all up. Times get changed ; morality prevails;
16*
346 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
the lower ranks are affected. They buy a sermon where they
used to buy some penny tract of nonsense. The higher orders
are also touched ; they too are brought to hear the word.
Her ladyship, in her carriage, who never would have thought
of going to so mean a place as a conventicle, does not now
care where she goes so long as she is blessed. She wants to
hear the truth ; and a drayman pulls his horses up by the side
of her ladyship's pair of grays, and they both go in and bend
together before the throne of sovereign grace. All classes are
affected. Even the senate feels it ; the statesman himself is
surprised at it, and wonders what all these things mean. Even
the monarch on the throne feels she has become the monarch
of a people better than she knew before, and that God is doing
something in her realms past all her thought — that a great
King is swaying a better scepter and exerting a better influ-
ence than even her excellent example. Nor does it even end
there. Heaven is filled. One by one the converts die, and
heaven gets fuller ; the harps of heaven are louder, the songs
of angels are inspired with new melody, for they rejoice to see
the sons of men prostrate before the throne. The universe is
made glad : it is God's own summer ; it is the universal spring.
The time of the singing of birds is come; the voice of the
turtle is heard in our land. Oh ! that God might send us such
a revival of religion as this !
I thank God, that we, as a people, have had great cause to
thank him that we have had a measure of revival of this kind,
but nothing compared A\"ith what we desire. I have heard of
revivals, where twenties, and thirties, and forties, and fifties,
were gathered in ; but, tell it to the honor of our God, there
is never a month passes, but our baptismal pool is opened, and
never a communion Sabbath, but we receive many into the
fold of the Lord. As many as three hundred in one year have
we added to the church, and still the cry is, *' They come !
they come !" The Lord hath been very gracious to us, and
to him be the honor of it. But we want more. Our souls are
greedy — covetous for God. Oh ! that we might be all con-
verted !
THE GREAT REVIVAL. 347
" Wo long to see the churches full,
• That all the chosen race,
May with one voice, and heart, and tongue,
Sing his redeeming grace."
And we have to thank God, too, that it has not ended there ;
for we liave Exeter Hall full, Westminster Abbey full, and
this place full too ; and though we may not altogether agree
in sentiment with all that preach,-yet God bless them all ! So
long as Christ is preached, I rejoice, yea, and will rejoice ; and
I would to God that every large building in London were
crowded too, and that every man who preached the Word
were followed by tens of thousands, who would hear the truth.
May that day soon come ! and there is one heart which will
rejoice in such a day more than any of you — a heart that shall
always beat the highest when it sees God glorified, though our
own honor should decrease.
ni. Now we shall have to turn to the third point, which
was A CAUTION. When Christmas Evans preached in Wales,
during a time of revival, he used to make the people dance ;
the congregation were so excited under his ministry that they
positively danced. Now I do not believe that dancing was
the work of the Spirit. Their being stirred in their hearts
might be the Holy Spirit's work, but the Holy Spirit does not
care to make people dance under sermons ; no good comes of
it. Now and then among our Methodist friends there is a
great break out, and we hear of a young woman in the mid-
dle of a sermon getting on the top of a form and turning
round and round in ecstasy, till she falls down in a faintingfit,
and they cry, " Glory be to God." Now we do not believe
that this is the work of the Spirit ; we believe it is ridiculous
nonsense, and nothing more. In the old revivals in America
a hundred years ago, commonly called " the great awakening,"
there were many strange things, such as continual shrieks and
screams, and knockings, and twitchings, under the services. We
can not call that the work of the Spirit. Even the great Whit-
field's revival at Cambuslang, one of the greatest and most
remarkable revivals that was ever known, was attended by
some things that wo can not but regard as superstitious won-
348 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
ders. People were so excited, that they did not know what
they did. Now, if in any revival you see any of these strange
contortions of the body, always distinguish between things
that differ. The Holy Spirit's work is with the mind, not with
the body in that way. It is not the will of God that such
things should disgrace the proceedings. I believe that such
things are the result of Satanic malice. The devil sees that
there is a great deal of good doing. " Now," says he, " I'll
spoil it all. I'll put my hoof in there, and do a world of
mischief. There are souls being converted ; I will get them
get so excited that they will do ludicrous things, and then
it will all be brought into contempt." Now, if you see any
of these strange things arising, look out. There is that old
Apollyon busy, trying to mar the work. Put such vagaries
down as soon as yon can, for where the Spirit works, he never
works against his own precept, and his precept is, "Let all
things be done decently and in order." It is neither decent
nor orderly for people to dance under the sermon, nor howl,
nor scream, while the gospel is being preached to them, and
therefore it is not the Spirit's work at all, but mere human ex-
citement.
And again, remember that you must always distinguish be-
tween man and man in the work of revival. While, during a
revival of religion, a very large number of people will be really
converted, there will be a very considerable portion who will
be merely excited with animal excitement, aud whose conver-
sion will not be genuine. Always expect that, and do not be
surprised if you see it. It is but a law of the mind that men
should imitate one another, and it seems but reasonable, that
when one person is truly converted, there should be a kind of
desire to imitate it in another, who yet is not a possessor of
true and sovereign grace. Be not discouraged, then, if you
should meet with this in the midst of a revival. It is no proof
that it is not a true revival ; it is only a proof that it is not
true in that particular case.
I must say, once more, that if God should send us a great
revival of religion, it will be our duty not to relax the bonds
of discipline. Some churches, when they increase very largely,
THE GKEAT REVIYAL. 349
are apt to take people into their number by wholesale, without
due and proper examination. We ought to be just as strict
in the paroxysms of a revival as in the cooler times of a grad-
ual increase, and if tJie Lord sends his Spirit like a hurricane,
it is ours to deal with skill with the sails, lest the hurricane
should wreck us by driving us upon some fell rock that may
do us serious injury. Take care, ye that are officers in the
church, when ye see the peoj^le stirred up, that ye exercise
still a holy caution, lest the church become lowered in its
standard of piety by the admission of persons not truly saTed.
IV. With these words of caution, I shall now gather up my
strength, and with all my might labor to stir you up to seek
of God a great revival of religion throughout the length and
breadth of this land.
Men, brethren, and fathers, the Lord God hath sent us a
blessing. One blessing is the earnest of many. Drops pie-
cede the April showers. The mercies which he has already
bestowed upon us are but the forerunners and the preludes of
something greater and better yet to come. He has given us
the former, let us seek of him the latter rain, that his grace
may be multiplied among us, and his glory may be increased.
There are some of you to whom I address myself this morning
who stand in the way of any revival of religion. I would
affectionately admonish you, and beseech you, not to impede
the Lord's own work. There be some of you, perhaps, here
present to-day who are not consistent in your living. And yet
you are professors of religion ; you take the sacramental cup
into your hand and drink its sacred wine, but still you live as
worldlings live, and are as carnal and as covetous as they. Oh,
my brother, you are a serious drawback to the church's in-
crease. God will never bless an unholy people, and in propor-
tion to our un holiness, he will withhold the blessing from us.
Tell me of a church that is inconsisteut, you shall tell me of a
church that is unblest. God will first sweep the house before
he will come to dwell in it. He will have his church i^ure be-
fore he will bless it with all the blessings of his grace. Re-
member that, ye inconsistent ones, and turn unto God, and ask
to be rendered holy. There are others of you that are so cold-
350 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
hearted, that you stand in the way of all progress. You are
a skid upon the wheels of the church. It can not move for
you. If we would be earnest, you put your cold hand on
every thing that is bold and daring. You are not prudent
and zealous ; if you were so, we would bless God for giving
you that prudence, w^hich is a jewel for which we ought ever
to thank God, if we have a prudent man among us. But there
are some of you to whom I allude, who are prudent, but you
are cold. You have no earnestness, you do not labor for Christ,
you do not serve him with all your strength. And. there are
others of you who are imprudent enough to push others on,
but never go forward yourselves. O ye Laodiceans, ye that
are neither hot nor cold, remember what the Lord hath said
of you — " So then, because thou art neither cold nor hot, I
will spue thee out of my mouth." And so will he do with you.
Take heed, take heed, you are not only hurting yourselves,
but you are injuring the church. And then there are others
of you who are such sticklers for order, so given to every
thing that has been, that you do not care for any revival, for
fear we should hurt you. You would not have the church re-
paired, lest we should touch one piece of the venerable moss
that coats it. You would not cleanse your own garment, be-
cause there is ancient dirt upon it. You think that because a
tiling is ancient, therefore it must be venerable. You are
lovers of the antique. You would not have a road mended,
because your grandfather drove his wagon along the rut that
is there. " Let it always be there," you say ; " let it always
be knee deep." Did not your grandfather go through it when
it was knee deep with mud, and why should not you do the
same ? It was good enough for him, and it is good enough
for you. You always have taken an easy seat in the church.
You never saw a revival ; you do not want to see it. You
believe it is all nonsense, and that it is not to be desired. Yon
look back ; you find no precedent for it. Doctor So-and-so
did not talk about it. Your venerable minister who is dead
did not talk so, you say ; therefore it is not needed. We need
not tell you it is scriptural ; that you do not care for. It is
not orderly, you say. We need not tell you the thing is
THE GREAT REVIVAL. 351
rig^t; you care more about the thing being ancient than
being good. Ah, you will have to get out of the way now,
it is n't any good ; you may try to stop us, but we will run
over you if you do not get out (^ the way. With a little
warning we shall have to run over your prejudices and incur
your anger. But your prejudices must not, can not restrain
us. The chain may be never so rusty with age, and never so
stamped with authority, the prisoner is always happy to break
it, and however your fetters may shackle us, we will dasli them
in pieces if they stand in the way of the progress of the king-
dom of Christ.
Having thus spoken to those who hinder, I want to speak
to you who love Jesus with all your hearts, and want to pro-
mote it. Dear friends, I beseech you remember that men are
dying around you by thousands. Will you let your eye follow
them into the world of shades ? Myriads of them die without
God, without Christ, without hope. My brother, does not
their fearful fate awaken your sympathy ? You believe, from
scriptural warrant, that those who die without faith go to that
place, where " their worm dieth not and their fire is not
quenched." Believing this, is not your soul stirred within
you in pity for their fate ? Look around you to-day. You
see a vast host gathered together, professedly for the service
of God. You know also how many there are here who fear
him not, but are strangers to themselves and strangers to the
cross. What ! Do you know yourself what a solemn thing
it is to be under the curse, and will you not pray and labor
for those around you that are under the curse to-day ? lie-
member your Master's cross. He died for sinners ; will you
not weep for them ?
" Did Christ o'er sinners weep;
And shall your cheek be dry ?"
Did he give his whole life for them, and will not you stir up
your life to wrestle with God, that his purposes may be ac-
complished on their behalf? You have unconverted children
— do you not want them saved ? You have brothers, hus-
bands, wives, fathers, that are this day in the gnll of bitter-
352 THE GREAT REVIVAL.
ness, and in the bonds of iniquity ; do you not want a revival,
even if it were only for their sakes ? Behold, how much of
robbery, of murder, of crime, stains this poor land. Do you
not want a revival of religion, if it were merely for quenching
the flames of crime ? See how God's name every day is blas-
phemed. Mark how, this day, trades are carried on, as if it
were man's day, and not God's. Mark how multitudes are
going the downward course, merry on their way to destruc-
tion. Do you not feel for them ? Are your hearts hard and
stolid ? Has your soul become steeled ? Has it become frozen
like an iceberg ? O Sun of righteousness arise, and melt the
icy heart, and make us all feel how fearful it is for immortal
souls to perish ; for men to be hurried into eternity without
God, and without hope. Oh, will you not now, from this time
forth, begin to pray that God may send forth his Word and
save them, that his own name may be glorified ?
As for you that fear not God, see how much ado we are
making about you. Your souls are worth more than you
think for. O that ye would believe in Christ, to the salvation
of your souls !
SERMON XXII.
THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF REUGION.
*' Let us fetch the ark of the covenant of the Lord out of Shiloh unto us,
that, when it cometh among us,-it may save us out of the hand of our ene-
mies." — 1 Samuel, iv. 3.
These men made a great mistake : what they wanted was
the Lord in their midst; whereas they imagined that the
symbol of God's presence, the ark of the covenant, would he
amply sufficient to bestow upon them the assistance which
they required in the day of battle. As is man, such must his
religion be. Now, man is a compound being. To speak cor-
rectly, man is a spiritual being : he hath within him a soul, a
substance far beyond the bounds of matter. But man is also
made up of a body as well as a soul. He is not pure spirit ;
his spirit is incarnate in flesh and blood. Now, such is our
religion. The religion of God is, as to its vitality, purely spir-
itual — always so ; but since man is made of flesh as well as of
spirit, it seemed necessary that his religion should have some-
thing of the outward, external, and material, in which to em-
body the spiritual, or else man would not have been able to
lay hold upon it. This was especially the case under the old
dispensation. The religion of the Jew is really a heavenly
and spiritual thing ; a thing of thought, a thing that concerns
the mind and spirit ; but the Jew was untaught ; he was but
a babe, unable to understand spiritual things unless he saw
them pictured out to him, or (to repeat what I have just said)
unless he saw them embodied in some outward type and sym-
bol : and therefore God was pleased to give the Jew a great
number of ceremonies, which were to his religion what the
body is to man's soul. The Jewish religion taught the doc-
trine of the atonement, but the Jew could not understand it,
I
35*4 THE FOEM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION.
and therefore God gave him a lamb to be slain every morning
and every evening, and he gave him a goat over which the
sins of the people were to be confessed, and which was to be
driven into the depths of the wilderness, to show the great
doctrine of a substitute and atonement through him. The
Jewish religion teaches, as one of its prominent doctrines, the
unity of the Godhead ; but the Jew was ever apt to forget
that there was but one God ; and God, to teach him that,
would have but one temj)le, and but one altar upon w^hich the
sacrifice might rightly be oifered. So that the idea of the one
God was (as I have already said) made incarnate in the fact
that there was but one temple, but one altar, and but one
great high priest. And mark, this is true of our religion —
Christianity : not true to so full an extent as of Judaism — for
the religion of the Jew had a gross and heavy body — but our
religion has a body transparent, and having but little of ma-
terialism in it. If you ask me what I would call the material-
ism of our religion, the embodiment of the sj^iritual part of
that in which we trust and hope, I would point, first of all, to
the two ordinances of the Lord, Baptism and the Lord's Sup-
per. I would point you next to the services of God's house,
to the Sabbath day, to the outward ritual of our worship ; I
would point you to our solemn song, to our sacred service of
prayer ; and I would point you also — and I think I am right
in so doing — to the form of sound words, which we ever de-
sire to hold fast and firm, as containing that creed which it is
necessary for men to believe if they would hold the truth as it
is in Jesus. Our religion, then, has an outward form even to
this day; for the apostle Paul, when he spoke of professing
Christians, spoke of some who had "a form of godliness, but
denied the powder thereof." So that it is still true, though I
confess not to the same extent as it was in the days of Moses,
that religion must have a body, that the spiritual thing may
come out palpably before our vision, and that we may see it.
Now, three points this moi-ning are inferred from our narra-
tive. The first point is this — ^that the outward form of religion
is to he carefully and reverently observed. But my second and
most important head is this — you will notice that the very men
THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION.
\S9^
who have the least of the spirit of religion are the most su2Jer-
stitiously observa?it of the form of it: just as you find the
people here, who did not care for God, had a very super-
stitious regard for that chest called the ark of the covenant.
And then, my third point will be, that those who trust in the
outward form of religion^ apart from the spirit of it., are
fearfully deceived., and tJie result of their deception must he
of the most fatal character. The first point I feel is necessary,
lest I should lead any to despise the form of religion, while
endeavoring to insist upon the absolute necessity of attending
in the first place to the spirit of it.
I. In the first place, then, tue forai of religion is to be
REVERENTLY OBSERVED. This ark of the covenant was, with
the Jew, the most sacred instrument of his religion. There
were many other things which he held holy : but this ark
always stood in the most holy place, and it was rendered
doubly sacred, because, between the outstretched wings of
those cherubic figures that rested upon the mercy-seat, there
was usually to be seen a bright light, called the Shekinah,
which manifested that Jehovah, the God of Israel, who dwelt
between the cherubim, was there. And, indeed, they had
great reason in the days of Samuel to reverence this ark, for
you will recollect that when Moses went to war with the
Midianites, a great slaughter of that people was occasioned by
the fact that Eleazar, the high priest, with a silver trumpet,
stood in the fore-front of the battle, bearing in his hands the
lioly instrument of the law — that is, the ark ; and it was by
the presence of this ark that the victory was achieved. It was
by this ark, too, that the river Jordan was dried up. When
the tribes came to it, there was no ford, but the priests put
the staves of the ark upon their shoulders, and they marched
with solemn pace down to the water's edge, and before the
presence of the ark the waters receded, so that the people
went through dry-shod. And when they had landed in the
promised country, you remember it was by this ark that the
witlls of Jericho fell flat to the ground ; for the priests, blowing
the trumpets and carrying the ark, went before, when they
compassed the city seven days, and at last, by the power of
^(
THE POEM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGI0:N'.
the ark, or rather by the power of that God who dwelt within
the ark, the w^alls of Jericho fell flat down, and every man went
straight up to the slaughter. These people, therefore, thought
if they could once get the ark, it would be all right, and they
"would be sure to triumph ; and, while I shall have, in the
second head, to insist upon it that they were wrong in super-
stitiously imputing strength to the poor chest, yet the ark was
to be reverently observed, for it was the outward symbol of a
high spiritual truth, and it w^as never to be treated with any
indignity.
It is quite certain, in the first place, that the form of religion
must never he altered. You remember that this ark was made
by Moses, according to the pattern that God had given him in
the mount. ISTow, the outward forms of our religion, if they
be correct, are made by God. His two great ordinances of
Baptism and the Lord's Supper are sent for us from on high. I
dare not alter either of them. I should think it a high sin and
treason against Heaven, if, believing that baptism signifieth
immersion, and immersion only, I should pretend to adminis-
ter it by sprinkling ; or believing that baptism appertaineth to
believers only, I should consider myself a criminal in the sight
of God if I should give it to any but those who believe. Even
so with the Lord's Supper. Believing that it consists of bread
and wine, I hold it to be highly blasphemous in the church
of Rome to withhold the cup from the people ; and knowing
that this ordinance was intended for the Lord's people only, I
consider it an act of high treason against the majesty of
Heaven, when any are admitted to the Lord's Sapper who
have not made a profession of their faith and of their repent-
ance, and who do not declare themselves to be the true chil-
dren of God. And with regard to the doctrines of the gos-
pel, no alterations must be allowed here. I know that forms
of doctrine are very little, compared with the spirit and the
heart ; but still we must not alter even the form of it. It has
often been said, that we ought not to have a strict religion.
I believe that is just the very thing we ought to have : a re-
ligion that is of such a cast that it does not know how to alter ;
a religion that comes from the infallible Head of the Church,
THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION. 357
that is, Jesus Christ our Lord, and which to the latest time is
to be like the Law and the Prophets — not one jot or tittle of
it must fail while the earth endureth. The men who think
that we may alter this and alter that, and still maintain the
spirit of religion, have some truth on their side ; but let them
remember, that while the spirit of religion may be main-
tained in the midst of many errors, yet every error tends to
weaken our spirituality. And, besides that, we have no right
to consider the effect upon ourselves merely. Whatever form
of religion God has ordained, it is ours to practice without the
slightest alteration ; and to alter any one of the ordinances of
God is an act of dire profanation ; however reasonable that
alteration may seem to be, it is treason against high Heaven,
and is not to be permitted in the church of Christ. " Hold
fast the form of sound words," said Paul, " which thou hast
heard of me ;" or, as I remember to have said before, while
the form of religion is not power, yet unless the form be care-
fully observed, it is not easy to maintain the power. It is like
an egg-shell enclosing the egg ; there is no life in the shell, but
you must take care you do not crack it, or else you may de-
stroy the life within. The ordinances and doctrines of our
faith are only the shell of religion — they are not the life ; but
we must take care that we do not hurt so much as the out-
ward shell, for if we do, we may endanger the Hfe within ;
though that may manage to live, it must be weakened by any
injury done to the outward form thereof.
And as the form must not be altered, so it must not be de-
spised. These Philistines despised the ark. They took it and
set it in their idol temple, and the result was that their idol god,
Dagon, was broken in pieces. They then sent it through their
cities, and they were smitten with emerods. And then, being
afraid to put it within walls, they set it in the open country,
and they were invaded with mice, so that every thing was
eaten up. God would not have any dishonor put even upon
the outward form of his religion ; he would have men rever-
ently take care that they did no dishonor even to his ark : it
might be nothing but gopher-wood, but because, between the
wings of those cherubim God had dwelt, the ark was to be
358 THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION.
held sacred, and God would not have it dishonored. Take
care, ye that despise God, lest ye despise his outward ordi-
nances. To laugh at the Sabbath, to despise the ordinances
of God's house, to neglect the means of grace, to call the out-
ward form of religion a vain thing — all this is highly offensive
in the sight of God. He will have us remember that while
the form is not the life, yet the form is to be respe'cted for the
sake of the life which it contains ; the body is to be venerated
for the sake of the inward soul ; and, as I would have no man
maim my body, even though in maiming it he might not be
able to wound my soul, so God would have no man maim the
outward parts of religion, although it is true no man can
touch the real vitality of it.
Yet one more remark, and that a very solemn one. As the
outward form is neither to be altered or despised, so neither
is it to be intruded upon by unworthy persons. You remem-
ber that this ark of the covenant, after it was brought back
from the land of the Philistines, was set in the field of Joshua
the Bethshemite, and the Bethshemites took off the lid, and
looked into the ark of the Lord, and, for this, the Lord "smote
of that people fifty thousand and threescore and ten men ; and
the people lamented because the Lord had smitten many of
the people with a gi*eat slaughter." These Bethshemites had
no intention whatever of dishonoring the ark. They had a
vain curiosity to look within, and the sight of those marvel-
ous tables of stone struck them with death ; for the law, when
it is not covered by the mercy-seat, is death to any man, and
it was death to them. Now, you will easily remember how
very solemn a penalty is attached to any man's intruding into
the outward form of religion when he is not called to do so.
Let me quote this awful passage : " He" (speaking of the
Lord's Supper) " that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth
and drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the Lord's
body." How frightful an announcement is that ! A curse is
pronounced upon the man who dares to touch even the out-
ward form of religion, unless he hath the power of it; and we
know there is nothing which excites God's holy anger more
swiftly than a man's attending to the ordinances of his house
THE form: and spirit of religion. 359
and making an outward profession of being in Christ, while he
has no part nor lot in the matter. Oh, take heed. The out-
ward ordinances of Christ are not the vitality of rehgion, but
nevertheless they are so solemnly important, that we must
neither alter nor despise them, nor rush into them without
being invited ; for if we do so the curse of God must light
upon us for having despised the holy things of the Most High
God of Israel.
And now, before I close this first head, let me remark, that
the outward things of God are to be diligently cared for and
loved. "We have in our reading had two instances of that.
There was holy Eli : he knew very well that the ark of God
was not God ; he understood that it was but the outward sign
of the inward and spiritual ; yet when the ark of God was
taken, mark the poor old man's trouble :. his heart broke, and
then he fell down and broke his neck. Then there was that
nameless woman. Her husband was the priest who attended
to this very ark, but he was a man whose character I can not
describe better than by saying that he was a son of Belial. It
is hard for a woman to beUeve religion if she has a minister for
her husband who is profane and wicked. This woman's hus-
band not only committed wrongs against God, but against her.
He was a filthy and unclean person, who polluted the very
courts of the Lord's house with his fornications ; and yet she
had such faith in her God, that she knew how to love the re-
ligion which her husband, by his awful character, brought into
disrepute. She knew how to distinguish between the man
and his duty, between the priest and the priesthood, between
the ofiicer and the office. I do wonder at her. I am sure
there is nothing staggers our faith like seeing a minister walk-
ing inconsistently ; but this man was the chief minister, and
her own husband, living in known sin, and a sin which came
home to her, because ho sinned against her. I am sure it was
wonderful that she believed at all ; but so strong was her faith
and attachment to her religion, that though, like Eli, she knew
that the ark was not God, that the form was not the inward
thing, yet the form itself was so precious to her, that the pangs
of child-birth were hurried on prematurely, and in the midst
3G0 THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGIOJ?".
of her pain, this still was uppermost — that the ark of the
Lord was taken. I4i was in vain to cheer her with the news
that her child was born ; it was an idle tale to her, and she
rejoiced not in it. She lay in a swoon ; but at last, opening
her eyes, and remembering that her husband was dead, and
that, therefore, according to Jewish usage, it was her duty to
give the child a name, she faintly opened her lips before she
died, and said, " Call his name Inglorious (Ichabod) for the
glory is departed ;" and then she added this reason for it : she
did not say, " because my husband is dead," though she loved
him ; she did not say, " because my father-in-law, Eli, is dead,"
or "because my nation has been defeated," but she added
that all-significant reason, " because the ark of the Lord was
taken ;" and she died. Oh, I would to God that we all loved
God's house, and loved the ways of God and the ordinances
of God as much as she did.. While we attach no super-
stitious importance to the outward ceremony, I wish we
thought as much of holy things, because of the Holy One of
Israel, as did Eli, and this nameless, but noble woman.
Thus, I have preached upon the first head, and no ceremo-
nialist here, I am sure, can differ from me, for they must all
say it is true. Even the Puseyite will confess that this is just
what he believes — that ceremonies ought to be carefully ob-
served. But I shall not agree with Mr. Puseyite in the sec-
ond head.
IL ]N'ow, it is a notorious fact, that the very mex who
HAVE the least IDEA OF WHAT SPIRITUAL RELIGION IS, ARE
THE MEN WHO PAY THE MOST SUPERSTITIOUS ATTENTION TO
OUTWARD FORMS. We refer you again to this instance. These
people would neither repent, nor pray, nor seek God and his
prophets ; yet they sought out this ark and trusted in it with
superstitious veneration. Now, in any country where there
has been any religion at all that is true, the great fact has
come out very plainly, that the people who do n't know any
thing about true religion, have always been the most careful
about the forms. Do you want to know the man who used to
swallow widows' houses, and devour the patrimonies of the
fatherless? Do you want to know the hypocrites, the deceivers,
THE POEM AI^D SPIRIT OF RELIGION. 861
in the days of Christ ? Why, they were the Pharisees, who
** for a show made long prayers ;" they were the men who gave
alms to the poor in the corner of the street — the men that tithed
the anise, and the mint, and the cummin, and forgot the weight-
ier matters of the law, such as justice and righteousness. If
you wanted to find the seducer, the unjust judge, the har, the
perjured man, in the days of Christ, you had only to ask for
the man who had fasted thrice in the week, and gave tithes of
all he possessed. These Pharisees would do any wicked ac-
tion, and never stick at it ; yet, if in drinking wine a small gnat
should have fallen in and been swallowed with it, they would
consider themselves defiled, because their law did not allow
them to eat a creature from which the blood had not been
withdrawn. Thus they strained at the gnat, thus getting the
reputation of being very religious, and swallowed the camel,
hump and all. You smile ; but what they did in their day is
done now. You know the Romanists ; did you ever know
one of them who would not think it to be a very high offense
against the majesty of Heaven, if he were to eat any meat on
Good Friday ? Do you know any one of them who did not
think it necessary to kept Lent with strict punctilious observ-
ance ? Notice how carefully they go to their places of wor-
ship on the Sabbath morning, how diligently they observe that
sacred rite of crossing their foreheads with holy water. How
necessary it is, that the holy water and every thing else of the
same kind, should be tenderly cared for. And do not the
same persons in their own countries keep their theaters open
on the Sabbath day ? Do you not find the very men, who
are so solemnly observant of their religion in the morning, for-
getting it all in the evening ; thinking no more of the Sabbath,
which they call holy, than if it were any other day, but making
it more a day of merriment than any day of the week ? Look
again at our Church of England ; God be thanked that there
are so many true evangelical men hi the midst of it ; but
there arc certain sections there to whom my remarks will ap'
ply. Do you want to know the men who know nothing at all
about the new birth, who do not know what it is to be justi-
fied by faith, who have not a spark of religion ? Do you know
16
362 THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION.
where to find them ? They are the men that never said their
creed without turning their heads the right way, that never
said the name of Jesus without bowing their heads most rev-
erently ; they are the men who always take care that the
church should be builded so as to be a goodly edifice, in order
that the parishioners going there may see the glory of God in
the glory of his house ; they are the people who mark every
red letter day, who take care that every rubric is attended to,
who think that holly on Christmas is a most heavenly thing,
and a few flowers upon the altar almost equal to the Lily of
the Yalley and the Rose of Sharon. These are the gentle-
men who could no more preach without a cassock than they
could live without a head. Of course they have not any
religion at all, and because the inner life is clean * gone,
evaporated, dissipated, they have to be so extremely particular
that they observe the outward form of it. I know many evan-
gelical churchmen '(and they are generally precise enough)
that would break through every form. I could point you out
this morning some two or three clergymen of the Church of
England who are heretical enough to be sitting here and lis-
tening to the words of one who is a Dissenter, and of course a
Schismatic, but who would no more think of calling me a
Schismatic than they would of flying, and would give me the
right hand of fellowship mth all their hearts. I believe that
many of them would forget the rubrics if they could, and, if it
were in their power, would cut their catechism all to pieces,
and turn half of their church prayer-book out of doors. And
these are the men that have most religion ; they care least
about the form, but they have most of the grace within ;
they have more true religion, more evangelism, more of the
grace of God in their hearts, than fifty of their Puseyite
brethren.
But let me come to Dissenters, for we are just as bad. I
must deal with all alike. We have among us a certain class
of people, a sort of dissenting Puseyites. Where the Puseyite
thinks it necessary to keep Good Friday and Easter Sunday,
these good brethren take as much care to keep holy day the
wrong way, as the otheis the right way. They think it would
THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGION'. 363
be a grievous sin to go to church on Good Friday, and they
are solemnly in earnest that they should never break the law
of the church not to observe holy days. To them it is a very
sacred thing that they should always be found in their church
twice on the Sunday ; they think it highly necessary that they
should have their children baptized, or that they should be
baptized themselves, and that they should take the Lord's
Supper. That is all well and good ; but alas ! we must con-
fess it, there are some among us who, if they are orthodox in
their opinions and precise in their outward practice, are quite
content to be utterly destitute of the power of religion. I
must deal faithfully with all. I know in all our dissenting de-
nominations there are to be found many self righteous persons,
who have not any religion at all, but who are the most precise
people in all the world to stick up for the outward form of it.
Do you not know some old member of the church here and
there ? Well, you say, if anybody in the church is a hypocrite,
I should say that old So-and-so is one. If you were to pro-
pose any alteration in any thing, oh ! how these gentlemen
would bristle up ; how they would draw their swords. They I
they love every nail in the chapel door, they would not have
a different color for the pulpit for the world. They will have
every thing strictly observed. Their whole salvation seems to
depend upon the rightness of the form. Oh no, not they ;
they could not think of altering any of the forms of their
church. You know it is quite as easy for a man to trust in
ceremonials when they are severely simple, as for a man to
rely upon them when they are gorgeous and superb. A man
may as much trust in the simple ordinances of immersion and
the breaking of bread, as another may trust in the high mass
and in the prayers of priests. We may have Rome in Dissent,
and Rome in the Church of England, and Rome anywhere ;
for wherever there is a trust in ceremonies, there is the essence
of Popery, there is anti-Christ and the man of sin. Oh ! take
heed of this any of you who have been relying upon your cere-
moDies. This is just the truth, that the more zeal for ceremo-
nies, generally the less power of vital godliness within. But
DOW, how is it that the man who would not eat any thing but
S64 THE FORM AND SPIRIT OF RELIGIOK.
Bait fish on Good Friday, cheats his neighbor on Saturday ?
How is it that the man who never would by any means go to
any thing but an orthodox sixteen-ounces-to-the pound Bap-
tist chapel, can be found committing acts of injustice in his
daily business, and perhaps more filthy deeds still? I will
tell you — the man feels he must have some righteousness or
other, and when he knows himself to be a good-for-nothing
rascal, he feels he has not got a moral righteousness, and there-
fore he tries to get a ceremonial one. Mark the man that
drinks and swears, that commits all kinds of iniquity, and you
will very often find him (I have known such cases) the most
superstitiously reverent man that can be found. He would
not go inside a place of worship without taking his hat off im-
mediately. He will curse and swear outside, perhaps, and it
never pricks his conscience ; but to walk up the aisle of a
church with his hat on — oh! how frightful. He feels, if he
did so, he would be lost for ever. He would not forget to
tithe the mint, anise, and cummin, but all the while the
weightier matters of the law are left totally unregarded.
Another reason is, because a religion of ceremonies is so much
easier than true religion. To say Ave Marias and Pater JSTos-
ters is easy enough ; you may soon get it over, and it does
not check the conscience much. To go to church twice on
the Sunday — there is nothing very hard in that. It is not
half so hard as turning to the Lord with full purpose of heart.
It is not half so hard as breaking off one's sin by righteousness,
and putting one's trust in Christ Jesus alone. Therefore, be-
cause the thing is so easy, people like it better. Again, it is so
complimentary. When the Romanist beats his back, and
flogs his flesh, why is it that he likes that better than the sim-
ple gospel, " Believe and five ?" Why, because it just flatters
his pride. He thinks he is beating the devil out of himself
but he is in reality beating him in — the devil of pride is com-
ing in. He whispers, " Ah ! you are a good man to have
flogged yourself like that ! you will carry yourself to heaven
by the merit of your wounds and bruises." Poor human na-
ture always like that. In fact, the more exacting a rehgion is,
the better people like it. The more religion ties you up, and
THE PORAI AJH) SPIEIT OF EELiaiON. 366
binds yon, if it does not touch the heart, the better people
like to carry it out. Hindooism has its great hold upon the
people, because they can get a great stock of merit by walk-
ing with spikes in theii' shoes, or rolling themselves many
thousands of miles, or drinking the filthy waters of the Ganges,
or offering themselves to die. All these things please human
nature. *' Believe and live" is too humbling ; to trust alone
in Christ casts down man's high looks ; therefore man says,
" Away \^dth it !" and he turns to any thing rather than to
Clirist.
Besides, there is another reason. Men always like the re-
ligion of ceremonies, because it does not need the giving up
of their favorite sins. " Why," says a man, " if all that is
needed for me to be saved, is to have the Sacrament given me
by the priest when I come to die, what a delightful religion
that is ! I can drink, swear, and do just as I like. I have
nothing to do but to get greased at last with holy oil, and off
I go to heaven with all my sins about me." Says another,
" We can have all our gayeties and frivolities, all the pomp of
life and the pride of flesh ; all that we need is to get con-
firmed ; then, afterwards, sometimes to go to church, take a
handsomely bound prayer-book and Bible, be very attentive
and observant, and the bishop will no doubt set us all right."
This just suits many men, because there is no trouble about it.
They can keep on with their gayeties and with their sins, and
yet they believe they can go to heaven with them. Men do
Dot like that old-fashioned gospel which tells them that sin and
the sinner must part, or else they must be damned. They do
not like to be told that without holiness no man shall see the
Lord, and that old-fashioned text, " Except a man be born
again, he can not see the kingdom of God," will never bo
palatable to human nature. Human nature does not mind
what you tell it to do, so long as you do not tell it to be-
lieve. You may tell it to observe this, that, and the other,
and the man will do it, and thank you, and the harder
it is, the better he will like you ; but once tell him, " Jesus
Christ came into the world to save sinners. Believe on him
and thou shalt be saved," his pride is all up at once ; he can
366 THE FOEM AND SPIRIT OP RELIGION.
not endure it, and he hates the man that preaches it to him,
and drives the very thought of the gospel from his soul.
III. And now, in the last place, it is mine to warn you that
TO TRUST IN CEREMONIES IS A MOST DECEITFUL THING, AND
WILL END IN THE MOST TERRIFIC CONSEQUENCES. When thcse
people had got the ark into the camp, they shouted for joy,
because they thought themselves quite safe ; but, alas, they
met with a greater defeat than before. Only four thousand
men had been killed in the first battle, but in the second,
thirty thousand footmen of Israel fell down dead. How vain
are the hopes that men build upon their good works, and cer-
emonial observances ! How frightful is that delusion which
teaches for the gospel a thing which is not " the gospel," nor
" another gospel," but it is a thing that would pervert the
gospel of Christ. My hearer, let me ask thee solemnly, what
is thy ground of hope ? Dost thou rely on baptism ? O man,
how fooHsh art thou ! What can a few drops of water, put
upon an infant's forehead, do ? Some lying hypocrites tell us,
that children are regenerated by drops of water. What kind
of regeneration is that ? We have seen people hanged that
were regenerated in this fashion. There have been men that
have lived all their lives whoremongers, adulterers, thieves,
and murderers, who have been regenerated in their baptism
by that kind of regeneration. Oh, be not deceived by a re-
generation so absurd, so palpable even to flesh and blood, as
one of the lying wonders that have come from hell itself. But
mayhap thou sayest, " Sir, I rely upon my baptism in after
life." Ah, my friend, what can washing in water do ? As the
Lord liveth, if thou trustest in baptism thou trustest in a thing
that will fail thee at last. For what is washing in water, un-
less it is preceded by faith and repentance ? We baptize you,
not in order to wash away your sins, but because we believe
they are washed away beforehand, and if we did not think you
believed so, we would not admit you to a participation in that
ordinance. But if you will pervert this to your own destruc-
tion, by trusting in it, take heed ; you are w arned this morn-
ing. For as " circumcision availeth nothing, nor uncircum-
cision, but a new creature," so baptism availeth nothing.
THE FORM AND SPIEIT OF RELIGION. 367
I may have some here who are saying within themselves,
"Well, if I do not go to heaven, nobody will, for I have been
brought up to my church as regularly as possible ; I was reg-
ularly confirmed ; my godfathers and godmothers stood for
me in my childhood, and all after the right fashion. I have
come here, it is true, but it is about the first offense I ever com-
mitted, coming into this schismatic conventicle ; if it please God
to forgive me, I will never do so again. I always go to church,
and I have no doubt that by taking the Sacrament and saying
my prayers I shall go to heaven." Ah ! you are awfully de-
ceived, for unless you are born again you must come back to
the old standard after all— unless you are in blessed union with
the Lamb, unless you have found repentance for sin, unless
you have true living faith in the Lord Jesus, you may keep all
these things, you may observe every jot and tittle, but the
gates of heaven must be shut in your face, and " depart from
me, I never knew you," must be your doom, even though you
reply, " Thou hast eaten and drunken in our streets, and we
have listened to thy voice." No, my friends, be ye Presby-
terians, Episcopalians, or Baptists, it matters not, ye have your
ceremonies ; and there are some among us that rely upon them.
This one truth cuts at the root of us all. If this be our hope,
it is a foul delusion. We must have faith in Jesus, we must
have the new heart and the right spirit ; no outward forms can
make us clean. The leprosy lies deep within ; and unless there
be an inward work, no outward work can ever satisfy God,
and give us an entrance into Paradise.
But before I close, there is one thing I want you to notice,
and tliat is, that this ark not only could not give victory to
Isrcid, but it could not preserve the lives of the priests them-
selves who carried it. This is a fatal blow to all who trust in
the forms of religion. What would the Romanist think, if I
should tell him that his outward forms can never save him ;
and how would he grind his teeth if I were to tell him, as I
do, that the outward forma can never save his priest, for his
priest and he must be lost together unless they have some bet-
ter trust than this ! But we have even in Protestant chin-ches
too much piiestcraft. People say, " Well, if the gospel does
368 THE FORM AND SPIRIT OP RELIGION.
not save me, I am confident of the salvation of my minister."
Rest assured that he that serveth at God's altar is no more se-
cure from destruction, unless he hath a living faith in Christ,
than you yourselves. Hophni and Phinehas are slain, and so
must every priest be if he relies on ceremonies himself or
teaches others to do so. I can not imagine a more frightful
death-bed than that of a man who has been a priest — I mean
a man who has taught others to trust in ceremonies. When
he is buried, it will be said of him that he died in sure and
certain hope of a blessed resurrection ; but oh ! the moment
after death, when he opens his eyes to see his delusion ! While
he was on earth he was fool enough to think that drops of
water could save him, that a piece of bread and a cup of wine
could renew his heart, and save his soul, but when he gets into
another world he will lose this folly, and then will the thought
flash upon him, like a lightning flash, writhing his soul with
misery — ^Ah ! I am destitute of the one thing needful ; I had
no love to Christ, I never had that repentance which needed
not to be repented of; I never fled to Jesus, and now I know
that that hymn is true —
" Not all the outward forms of earth,
Nor rites that God has given,
Nor will of man, nor blood, nor birth,
Can raise the soul to heaven."
Oh ! how frightful then afterwards to meet his parishioners, to
see those to whom he has preached, and to be howled at
through the pit by the men whom he was the instrument of
destroying, by telling them to trust in a rotten foundation.
Let me free myself from any such fear as that. As the Lord
my God liveth before whom I stand this day — man, woman,
my brother, my sister, in the race of Adam, if thou reliest on
any thing short of the blood of Jesus Christ, thou trustest in
a lie ; and if thy salvation ends in any thing short of a thorough
change of heart, if it makes thee any thing less than a new
creature in Christ Jesus, the bed is shorter than a man can
stretch himself upon it, thou hast a religion which is not equal
to the necessities of thy case, and when thou needest it most,
THE FORM AND SPIRIT OP RELIGION. 369
it will reel beneath thy feet, and leave thee without a standing
place whereon to rest, overwhelmed with dismay, and over-
come by despair.
Now, before I send you away, let me make this last remark.
I hear one say, " Sir, I renounce all trust in good works and
ceremonies. Tell me, how can I be saved ?" The way Is sim-
ply this. Our sins deserve punishment ; God must and will
punish sin ; JeSus Christ came into this world and was pun-
ished in the room, place, and stead of all that believe on him.
Your business, then, this morning is to make this inquiry, Do I
want a Saviour ? Do I feel that I want him ? And my busi-
ness, if you answer that question aright is to say, Believe on the
Lord Jesus Christ with all thy heart, and thou shalt be saved.
Ah ! there is one in heaven to-day, I firmly believe, who
was always a worshiper in this place — a young man who was
led here to listen to the gospel, and was converted to God ;
and last Sabbath morning was caught away to heaven in the
burning house at Bloomsbury — one of those young men who
was taken out of the ruins, one who had been brought to a
knowledge of the truth here. It is stated in some of the pa-
pers, that his mother was far from a religious woman, and was
somewhat given to drink ; he had to struggle with some
temptation and opposition, but he was enabled to hold on his
way, and then, in such an hour as he thought not, the Son of
man came for him, and caught him to himself in tlie midst of
flames and crashing timbers and the uprising of smoke. Oh I
I may have one here, that, ere another Sabbath morning
comes, may be launched into eternity, if not by the same de-
plorable process, yet in as hasty a manner ; and as my soul re-
joices over tliat young man, to think that God should have
honored me in bringing him to Christ before he took him up
to heaven, I must lament that there are any of you in a peril
so frightful, as to be living without God, without Christ, with
out a hope of heaven ; to have death hanging over you, and
yet not to tremble at it. Oh ! this morning I beseech you,
close with Christ. " Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and ye
perish from the way, while his wrath is kindled but a little :
for blessed are all they that put their trust in him,"
10*
SERMON XXIII.
PROVIDENCE.
" But the very hairs of your head are all numbered." — ^Matthew, x. 30.
During this week my mind has been much directed to the
subject of Providence, and you will not wonder, when I relate
a portion of one day's story. I was engaged to preach last
Wednesday at Halifax, where there was a heavy snow storm.
Preparations had been made for a congregation of eight thou-
sand persons, and a huge wooden structure had been erected. I
considered that owing to the severe weather, few persons could
possibly assemble, and I looked forward to the dreary task of
addressing an insignificant handful of people in a vast place.
However, when I arrived, I found from five to six thousand peo-
ple gathered together to hear the Word ; and a more substantial
looking place it has not been my lot to see. It certainly was
a huge, uncomely building, but, nevertheless, it seemed well
adapted to answer the purpose. We met together in the after-
noon and worshiped God, and again in the evening, and we
separated to our homes, or rather, we were about to separate,
and all this while the kind providence of God was watching
over us. Immediately in front of me there was a huge gallery,
which looked an exceedingly massive structure, capable of
holding two thousand persons. This, in the afternoon, was
crowded, and it seemed to stand as firm as a rock. Again in
the evening there it stood, and neither moved nor shook.
But mark the provident hand of God: in the evening, when
the people were about to retire, and when there was scarcely
more than a hundred persons there, a huge beam gave way,
and down came a portion of the flooring of the gallery with
a fearful crash. Several persons were precipitated with the
planks, but still the good hand of God watched over us, and
PEOVIDENCE. 371
only two persons were severely injured with broken legs,
which it is trusted will be reset without the necessity of am-
putation. Now, had this happened any earlier, not only must
many more have been injured, but there are a thousand
chances to one, as we say, that a panic must necessarily have
ensued similar to that which we still remember, and deplore
as having occurred in this place. Had such a thing occurred,
and had I been the unhappy preacher on the occasion, I feel
certain that I should never have been able to occupy the pul-
pit again. Such was the effect of the first calamity, that I
marvel that I ever survived. No human tongue can possibly
tell what I experienced. The Lord, however, graciously pre-
served us; the fewness of the people in the gallery prevented
any such catastrophe, and thus a most fearful accident was
averted. But we have a more marvelous providence still to
record. Overloaded by the immense weight of snow which
fell upon it, and beaten by a heavy wind, the entire building
fell with an enormous crash three hours after we had left it,
splitting the huge timbers into shivers, and rendering very
much of the material utterly useless for any future building.
Now mark this — had the snow begun three hours earlier, the
building must have fallen upon us, and how few of us would
have escaped we can not guess. But mark another thing:
all day long it thawed so fast, that the snow as it fell seemed
to leave a mass, not of white snow, but of snow and water
together. This ran through the roof upon us, to our con-
siderable annoyance, and I was almost ready to complain that
we had hard dealing from God's providence. But if it had
been a frost instead of a thaw, you can easily perceive that
the place must liave fallen several hours beforehand, and then
your minister, and the greater part of his congregation, would
probably have been in the other world. Some there may be
who deny providence altogether. I can not conceive that
there were any partakers of the scene who could have done
so. This I know, if I had been an unbeliever to that day in
the doctrine of the supervision and w.ise care of God, I must
have been a believer in it at this hour. Oh, magnify the
372 PEOVIDENCE.
Loi-d with me, and let us exalt his name together ; he hath
been very gracious unto us, and remembered us for good.
Now, wlien we look abroad, we see, as we think, such
abundant proofs that there is a God, that we are apt to treat
a man who denies the existence of a God with very little re-
spect or patience. We believe him to be willfully blind, for
we see God's name so legible upon the very surface of crea-
tion, that we can not have patience with him if he dares to
deny the existence of a Creator. And in the matter of sal-
vation : we have each of us seen in our own salvation such posi-
tive marks of the Lord*s dealings with us, that we are apt to
be somewhat censorious and harsh towards any who propound
a doctrine which would teach salvation apart from God. And
I think we shall be very apt this morning to think hardly of
the man, who, having seen and heard of such a providence as
that which I have just related, could fail to see God's hand.
J[t seems to me that the hand of God in providence is as clear
as in creation ; and whilst I am sure that if saved at all I must
be saved by God, I feel equally certain that every matter
which concerns all of us in daily life, bears upon itself the
evident trace of being the handiwork of Jehovah, our God.
We must, if we would be true believers in God, and would
avoid all atheism, give unto him the kingship in the three
kingdoms of creation, grace, and providence. It is in the
last, however, that I think we are the most apt to forget him ;
we may easily see God in creation if we be at all enlightened,
aud if saved, we can not avoid confessing that salvation is of
the Lord alone. The very way in which we are saved, and
the effect of grace in our hearts, always compel us to feel
that God is just. But providence is such a checkered thing,
and you and I are so prone to misjudge God and to come
to rash conclusions concerning his dealings with us, that per-
haps this is the greatest stronghold of our natural atheism —
a doubt of God's dealings with us in the arrangements of out-
ward affairs. This morning I shall not be able to go deeply
into the subject, but very heartily can I enter into it, after
being so great a partaker of his wonder-working power.
From the text I shall draw one or two points. First of all,
PROVIDENCE. 373
the text says, " the very hairs of our head are all numbered.'*
From this I shall infer the minuteness of x:>romdence. Again,
inasmuch as it is said of believers that the haii's of their head
are all numbered, I shall infer the kind consideration^ the
generous care, which God exercises over Christians. And
then, from the text, and from our Saviour's reason for utter-
ing these words, I shall draw a practical conclusion of ichat
should he the spirit and temper of the men who believe this
truth — that the very hairs of their head are all numbered.
I. First, then, our text very clearly teaches us the minute-
ness OF PROVIDENCE. Every man can see providence in
great things; it is very seldom that you find any person deny-
ing that when an avalanche falls'from the summit of the Alps,
the hand, the terrible hand of God is there. There are very few
men who do not feel that God is present in the whirlwind, and
in the storm. Most men will acknowledge that the earthquake,
the hurricane, the devastation of war, and the ravages of
pestilence, come from the hand of God. We find most men
very willing to confess that God is God of the hills, but they
forget that he is also Lord of the valleys. They will grant
that he deals with great masses, but not with individuals ;
with seas in the bulk, but not with drops. Most men forget,
however, that the fact which they believe of providence being
in great things involves a providence in the little, for it were
an inconsistent belief that the mass were in God's hand,
whilst the atom was left to chance ; it is indeed a belief that
contradicts itself; we must believe all chance or else all God.
We must have all ordained and arranged, or else we must
have every thing left to the wild whirlwind of chance and ac-
cident. But I believe that it is in little things that we fail to
-oe God ; therefore, it is to the little things that I call your
attention this morning.
I believe my text means Uterally what it says. " The very
hairs of your head are all numbered." God's wisdom and
knowledge are so great, that he even knows the number of
the hairs njK)n our head. His providence descends to the
minute particles of dust in the summer gale ; he numbeis the
gnats in the sunshine, and the fishes in the sea. While it
374 PEOVIDEN^CE.
certainly dotli control the massive orbs that shine in heaven,
it doth not blush to deal with the drop that trickleth from
the eye.
Now, I shall want you to notice, how little circumstances
of daily Hfe, when we come to put them all together, evidently
betray their origin. I will take a Scripture history, and show
how the little events must have been of God, as well as the
great results. When Joseph was sent into Egypt by his
brethren, in order to provide for them against a day of famine,
we all agree with Joseph's declaration, " It was God that sent
me hither." But now, if we notice each of the little ways
through which this great result was brought to pass, we shall
see God in each of tliem. One day, Joseph's brethren are
gone out with the sheep ; Jacob wants to send to them. Why
does he send Josej^h ? He was his darling son ; he loved him
better than all his brethren. Why does he send him away ?
He sends him, however. Then why should it have happened
at that particular time, that Jacob should want to send at all ?
However, he did want to send, and he did send Joseph. A
mere accident you will say, but quite necessary as the base-
ment of the structure. Joseph goes ; his brethren are in want
of pasture, and therefore leave Shechem, where Joseph ex-
pected to find them, and journey on to Dothan. Why go to
Dothan ? Was not the whole land before them ? However,
Joseph goes there ; he arrives at Dothan just when they are
thinking of him and his dreams, and they put him into a pit.
As they are about to eat bread, some Ishmaelites came by.
Why did they come there at all ? Why did they come, at
that particular time ? Why were they going to Egypt ?
Why might they not have been going any other way? Why
was it that the Ishmaelites wanted to buy slaves ? Why might
they not have been trading in some other commodity ? How-
ever, Joseph is sold ; but he is not disposed of on the road to
Egypt, he is taken to the land. Why is it that Potiphar is to
buy him ? Why is it that Potiphar has a wife at all ? Why
is it again that Potiphar's wife should be so full of lust ? Why
should Joseph get into prison ? How is it that the baker and
the butler should offend their master ? All chance, as the
PROVIDENCE. 875
world has it, but every link necessary to make the chain.
They do both offend their master; they are both put into
prison. How is it that they both dream? How is it that
Joseph interprets the dreams ? How is it that the butler for-
gets him? Why, just because if he had recollected him, it
would have spoiled it all. Why is it Pharaoh dreams ? How
can dreams be under the arrangement of God's providence ?
However, Pharaoh does dream; the butler then thinks of
Joseph; Joseph is brought out of prison and taken before
Pharaoh. But take away any of those simple circumstances,
break any one of the links of the chain, and the whole of the
design is scattered to the winds. You can not get the machine
to work ; if any of tlie minute cogs of the wheels are taken
away, every thing is disarranged. I think it seems very clear
to any man who will dissect not only that, but any other
history he likes to fix upon, that there must be a God in the
little accidents and dealings of daily life, as well as in the great
results that tell upon the page of history, and are recounted
in our songs. God is to be seen in little things.
We will now notice, in the minutiae of providence, how
punctual providence always is. You will never wonder more
at providence, than when you consider how well God keeps
time with himself. To return to our history — how is it that
the Ishraaelites should come by just at that time ? How
many thousand chances there were that their journey might
have been taken just before ! There certainly was no special
train to call at that station at that particular time, so that
Joseph's brethren might ari'ange to go and call him. No
such thing. And yet if there had been all this arrangement,
it could not have happened better. You know Reuben in-
tended to fetch Joseph out of the pit half an hour later, and
*' the child was not." God had these Ishmaelites ready : you
do not know how he may have sped them on their journey, or
delayed them, so as to biing them on the spot punctually at
the identical moment.
To give another instance, there was a poor woman whose
son had been raised from the dead by Elisha; she, however,
had left her country at the time of fiimine, and had lost her
876 PROVIDENCE.
estate. She wanted to get it back ; God determined that she
should have it. How was it to be done ? The king sends for
Gehazi, the servant of Elisha, and he talks to him : he tells
him one instance about a woman who had had a child raised
from the dead. How strange ! in comes the woman herself.
My lord, this is the woman ; she comes to obtain her suit.
Her desire is granted, just because at the very moment the
king's mind is interested concerning h^i. All chance, was it
not ? Nothing but chance ? So fools say ; but those who
read Bibles, and those who have judgment, say there is some-
thing more than chance in such a coalition of circumstances.
It could not be a mere coincidence, as men sometimes say;
there must be God here, for it is harder to think that there is
not God than that there is. And whilst a belief in God may be
said by some to involve a great stretch of faith, the putting
him out of such things as this, would involve an infinitely
greater amount of credulity. No, there was God there.
There is another instance that I remember in the New
Testament history. Paul goes into the temple, and the Jews
rush upon him in a moment to kill him. They drag him out
of the temple, and the doors are shut against him. They are
iust in the very act of killing him, and what is to become of
poor Paul's life ? Five minutes longer and Paul will be dead,
when up comes the chief captain and delivers him. How was
it that the chief captain, knew of it ? Very probably some
young man of the crowed who knew Paul and loved him, ran
to tell him. But why was it that the chief captain was at
home? How was it that the ruler was able to come on. a
moment's emergency ? How was it that he did come at all ?
It was only just a Hebrew, a man that was good for nothing,
being killed. How was it that he came, and when he came
the streets were full ; there was a mob about Jerusalem t
How did he come to the right street ? How did he come al
the exact nick of time ? Say, "It is all chance !" I laugh at
you ; it is providence. If there be any thing in the world
that is plain to any man that thinks, it is plain that God
" Overrules all mortal things,
And manages our mean affairs."
PEOVIDENCE. * Sll
But mark, that the running of the youth, and his arrival at
the precise time, and the coming of the chief governor at the
precise time, just proved the punctuality of divine providence ;
and if God has a design that a thing shall happen at twelve, if
you have appointed it for eleven, it shall not happen till twelve ;
and if he means it to be delayed till one, it is in vain that you
propose any earlier or any later. God's punctuality in provi-
dence is always sure, and very often apparent.
Nor is it only in the minutes of time that we get an idea of
the minuteness of providence, but it is in the use of little things.
A sparrow has turned the fate of an empire. You remember
the old story of Mohammed flying from his pursuers. He
enters a cave, and a sparrow chirps at the entrance, and flies
away as the pursuers pass. " Oh," say they, " there is no fear
that Mohammed is there, otherwise the bird would have gone
a long while ago ;" and the impostor's life is saved by a spar-
row. We think, perhaps, that God directs the motions of the
leviathan, and guides him in the sea, when he makes the deep
to be hoary. Will we please to recollect, that the guidance
of a minnow in its tiny pool, is as much in the hand of provi-
. dence as the motion of the great serpent in the depths. You
see the birds congregate in the autumn, ready for their flight
across the purple sea. They fly hither and thither in strange
confusion. The believer in providence holds that the wing of
every bird has stamped upon it the place where it shall fly,
and fly with never such vagaries of its own wild will, it can not
diverge so much as the millionth part of an inch from its pre-
destinated track. It may whirl about, above, beneath — east,
west, north, south-^-wherever it pleases ; still, it is all accord-
ing to the providential hand of God. And although we see it
not, it may be that if that swallow did not take the precise track
which it does take, something a little greater might be afiected
thereby ; and again, something a little greater still might be
aflfected, until at last a great thing would be involved in a
little. Blessed is that man who seeth God in trifles ! It is
there that it is the hardest to see him ; but he who believes
that God is there, may go from the little providence up to the
God of providence. Rest assured, when the fish in the sea
878 PROVIDENCE.
take their migration, they have a captain and a leader, as well
as the stars ; for he who marshals the stars in their courses,
and guides the planets in their march, is the master of the fly,
and wings the bat, and guides the minnow, and doth not
despise the tiniest of his creatures. You say there is pre-
destination in the path of the earth ; you believe that in the
shining of the sun there is the ordinance of God ; there is as
much his ordinance in the creeping of an insect or in the
glimmering of a glow-worm in the darkness. In nothing
is there chance, but in every thing there is a God. All
things live and move in him, and have their being; nor
could they live or move otherwise ; for God hath so ordained
them.
I hear one say, " Well, sir, you seem to be a fatalist !" !N^o,
far from it. There is just this diflerence between fate and
providence. Fate is blind ; providence has eyes. Fate is
blind, a thing that must be ; it is just an arrow shot from a
bow, that must fly onward, but hath no target. Not so,
providence ; providence is full of eyes. There is a design in
every thing, and an end to be answered ; all things are work-
ing together, and working together for good. They are not
done because they must be done, but they are done because
there is some reason for it. It is not only that the thing is,
})ecause it must be ; but the thing is, because it is right it
should be. God hath not arbitrarily marked out the world's
history; he had an eye to the great architecture of perfection,
when he marked all the aisles of history, and placed all the
pillars of events in the building of time.
There is another thing that we have to recollect also, which
will strike us perhaps more than the smallness of things. The
minuteness of providence may be seen in the fact, that even
the thoughts of men are under God's hand. Now, thoughts
are things which generally escape our attention, when we
speak of providence. But how much may depend upon a
thought ! Oftentimes a monarch has had a thought which has
cost a nation many a bloody battle. Sometimes a good man
has had a thought, which has been the means of rescuing mul-
titudes from hell, and bearing thousands safely to heaven. Be-
PEOVTDENCE. 379
yond a doubt, every imagination, every passing thought, every
conception, that is only bom to die, is under the hand of God.
And in turning over the page of history, you will often be struck,
when you see how great a thing has been brought about by
an idle word. Depend uj^on it, then, that the will of man, the
thought of man, the desire of man, that every purpose of man,
is immediately under the hand of God. Take an instance —
Jesus Christ is to be born at Bethlehem ; his mother is living
at Nazareth : he will be born there to a dead certainty. No,
not so. Caesar takes a whim into his head. All the world
shall be taxed, and he will have all of them go to their own
city. What necessity for that ? Stupid idea of Caesar's ! If
he had had a parliament, they would have voted against him.
They would have said, " Why make all the people go to their
own peculiar city to the census ? Take the census where they
live ; that will be abundantly sufficient." " No," says he, " it
is my will, and Caesar can not be opposed." Some think Caesar
mad. God knows what he means to do with Ca3sar. Mary,
great with child, must take a laborious journey to Bethlehem ;
and there is her child born in a manger. We should not have had
the prophecy fulfilled, that Christ should be born at Bethlehem,
and our very faith in the Messiah might have been shaken, if
it had not been for that whim of Caesar's. So that even the
will of man ; the tyranny, the despotism of the tyrant, is in
the hand of God, and he turneth it whithersoever he pleaseth,
to work his own will.
Gathering up all our heads into one short statement, it is
our finn belief that he who wings an angel guides a sparrow.
We believe that he who supports the dignity of his throne
amidst the splendors of heaven, maintains it also in the depths
of the dark sea. We believe that there is nothing above, be-
neath, around, which is not according to the determination of
his own counsel and will ; and while we are not fatalists, we do
most truly and sternly hold the doctrine, that God hath de-
creed all things whatsoever that come to pass, and that he
overruleth all things for his own glory and good ; so that with
Martin Luther, we can say,
880 PEOVIDENCE.
" He everywhere hath sway,
And all things serve his might ;
His every act pure blessing is,
His path unsnllied light"
n. The second point is, the kind consideration" of god,
IN TAKING CAKE OF HIS PEOPLE. In reading the text, I thought,
" There is better care taken of me than I can take care of
myself." You all take care of yourselves to some extent, but
which of you ever took so much care* of himself as to count
the hairs of his head ? But God will not only protect our
limbs, but even the excrescence of hair is to be seen after.
And how much this excels all the care of our tenderest friends !
Look at the mother, how careful she is. If her child have a
little cough, she notices it : the slightest weakness is sure to be
observed. She has watched all its motions anxiously, to see
whether it walked right, whether all its limbs were sound, and
whether it had the use of all its powers in perfection ; but she
has never thought of numbering the hairs of her child's head,
and the absence of one or two of them would give her no
great concern. But our God is more careful of us, even than
a mother with her child — so careful that he numbers the hairs
of our head. How safe are we, then, beneath the hand of
God!
However, leaving the figure, let us again notice the kind,
guardian care, which God exerts over his people in the way
of providence. I have often been struck with the providence
of God, in keeping his people alive before they were con-
verted. How many are there here who would have been in
hell at this hour, if some special providence had not kept them
alive till the time of their conversion ! I remember mention-
ing this in company, and almost every person in the room had
some half-miracle to tell, concerning his own deliverance be-
fore conversion. One gentleman, I remember, was a sporting
man, who afterwards became an eminent Christian. He told
me, that a little time before his conversion he was shooting,
and his gun burst in four pieces, which stood upright in the
earth as near as possible in the exact form of a square, having
been driven nearly a foot into the ground, while he stood there
PROVIDENCE. 381
unharmed and quite safe, having scarcely felt the shock. I
was noticing in Hervey's works, one day, a very pretty thought
on this subject. He says, " Two persons who had been hunt-
ing together in the day, slept together the following night.
One of them was renewing the pursuit in his dream, and,
having run the whole circle of the chase, came at last to the
fall of the stag; upon this he cries oufwith a determined ar-
dor, IHl kill him^ IHl JciU him ; and immediately feels for
the knife which he carried in his pocket. His companion hap-,
pening to awake, and observing what passed, leaped from the
bed. Being secure from danger, and the moon shining in the
room, he stood to view the event, when, to his inexpressible
surprise, the infatuated sportsman gave several deadly stabs in
the very place where a moment before the throat and the life
of his friend lay. This I mention as a proof, that nothing
hinders us, even from being assassins of others, or murderers
of ourselves, amidst the mad sallies of sleep, only the prevent-
ing care of our heavenly Father."
How wonderful the providence of God with regard to
Chiistian people, in keeping them out of temptation. I have
often noticed this fact, and I believe you are able to confirm it,
that there are times when if a temptation should come you
would be overtaken by it ; but the temptation does not come.
And at other times, when the temptation comes, you have
supernatural strength to resist it. Yes ! the best Christian in
the world will tell you, that such is still the strength of his
lust, that there are moments when if the object were presented
to him, he would certainly fall into the commission of a foul
sin ; but then the object is not there, or there is no opportunity
of committing the sin. At another time, when we are called to
go through a burning fiery furnace of temptation, wc have no
desire towards the peculiar sin, in fact we feel an aversion to
it, or are even incapable of it. Strange it is, but many a man's
character has been saved by providence. The best man that
ever lived, little knows how much he owes for preservation to
the providence as well as to the grace of God.
How raai-velously too has providence arranged all our places.
I can not but recur to my own personal history, for, after all,.
382 PROVIDENCE.
we are obliged to speak more of what we know of ourselvea
as matters of fact, than of others. I shall always regard the
fact of my bemg here to-day as a remarkable instance of provi-
dence. I should not have occupied this hall probably, and
been blessed of God in preaching to multitudes if it had not
been for what I considered an untoward accident. I should
have been at this time studying in college, instead of preach-
ing here, but for a singular circumstance which happened. I
had agreed to go to college : the tutor had come to see me,
and I went to see him at the house of a mutual friend ; I was
shown by the servant into one drawing-room in the house, he
was shown into another. He sat and waited for me for two
hours ; I sat and waited for him two hours. He could wait
no longer, and went away thinking I had not treated him well ;
I went away and thought that he had not treated me well. As
I went away this text came into my mind, "Seekest thou
great things for thyself? Seek them not." So I WTOte to
say that I must positively decline, I was happy enough an^ongst
my own country people, and got on very well in preaching,
and I did not care to go to college. I have now had four
years of labor. But, speaking after the manner of men, those
who have been saved during that time would not have been
saved, by my instrumentality at any rate, if it had not been
for the remarkable providence turning the whole tenor of my
thoughts, and putting things into a new track. You have often
had strange accidents like that. When you have resolved to do
a thing, you could not do it any how ; it was quite impossible.
God turned you another way, and proved that providence is
indeed the master of all human events.
And how good, too, has God been in providence to some of
you, in providing your daily bread. It is remarkable how a
little poverty makes a person believe in providence, especially
if he is helped through it. If a person has to live from hand
to mouth, when day by day the manna falls, he begins to think
there is a providence then. The gentleman who sows his
broad acres, reaps his wheat and puts it into his barn, or takes
his regular income, gets on so nicely that he can do without
providence ; he does not care a bit about it. The rents of his
PEOVIDENCE. 883
flouses all come in, and his money in the Three per Cents.
is quite safe — what does he want w^th providence? But
the poor man who has to work at day labor, and some-
times runs very short, and just then happens to meet with
somebody who gives him precisely w^hat he wants, he ex-
claims, "Well, I know there is a j^rovidence — I can not help
believing it ; these things could not have come by chance."
III. And now, in conclusion, brethren and sisters, if these
things be so, if the hairs of our head are all numbered, and
if providence provides for his people all things necessary for
this life, and godliness, and arranges every thing with infinite
and unerring wisdom, what manner of persons ought we to be ?
In the first place we ought to be a bold race of people.
What have we to fear ? Another man looks up and if he sees
a lightning-flash, he trembles at its mysterious power. We
believe it has its predestined path. We may stand and con-
template it; although we would not presumptuously expose
ourselves to it, yet can we confide in our God in the midst of
the storm. We are out at sea, the waves are dashing against
the ship, she reels to and fro ; other men shake, because they
think this is all chance ; we, however, see an order in the
waves, and hear a music in the winds. It is for us to be
j>eaceful and calm. To other men the tempest is a fearful
thing ; we beHeve that the tempest is in the hand of God.
Why should we shake ? Why should we quiver ? In all con-
vulsions of the world, in all temporal distress and danger, it
is for us to stand calm and collected, looking boldly on. Our
confidence should be very much the same, in comparison with
the man who is not a believer in providence, as the confidence
of some learned surgeon, who, when he is going through an
operation, sees something very marvelous, but yet never
shudders at it, while the ignorant peasant who has never seen
any thing so wonderful, is alarmed and fearful, and even thinks
that evil spirits are at work. We are to say — let others say
what they please — " I know God is here, and I am his child,
and this is all working for my good ; therefore will not I fear,
though the earth be removed, and though the mountains be
earned into the midst of the sea."
384 PROVIDENCE.
Especially may I address this remark to timid people.
There are some of you who are frightened at every little
thing. Oh ! if you could but believe that God manages all,
why, you would not be screaming because your husband is not
home when there is a httle thunder and lightning, or because
there is a mouse in the parlor, or because there is a great tree
blown down in the garden. There is no necessity you should
believe that your brother-in-law, who has gone to Australia,
was wrecked, because there was a storm when he was at sea.
There is no need for you to imagine, that your son in the
army was necessarily killed, because he happened to be before
Lucknow ; or, if you think the thing necessary, still, as a be-
liever in God's providence, you should just stand and say
that God has done it, and it is yours to resign all things into
his hands.
And I may say to those of you also who have been be-
reaved — if you believe in providence you may grieve ; but your
grief must not be excessive. I remember at a funeral of a
friend hearing a pretty parable which I have told before, and
will tell again. There was much weeping on account of the
loss of a loved one, and the minister put it thus. He said,
"Suppose you are a gardener employed by another; it is not
your garden, but you are called upon to tend it, and you have
your wages paid you. You have taken great care with a cer-
tain number of roses ; you have trained them up, and there
they are, blooming in their beauty. You pride yourself upon
them. You come one morning into the garden, and you find
that the best rose has been taken away. You are angry : you
go to your fellow-servants, and charge them with having taken
the rose. They will declare that they had nothing at all to
do with it ; and one says, 'I saw the master walking here this
morning; I think he took it.' Is the gardener angry then?
No, at once he says, ' I am happy that my rose should have
been so fair as to attract the attention of the master? It
is his own : he hath taken it ; let him do what seemeth him
good.' "
It is even so with your friends. They wither not by chance ;
the grave is not filled by accident ; men die according to God's
PROVIDENCE. 885
will. Your cliild is gone, but tlie Master took it ; your hus-
band is gone, your wife is buried — the Master took them;
thank him that he let you have the pleasure of caring for them
and tending them while they were hei*e, and thank him that
as he gave, he himself has taken away. If others had done
it, you would have had cause to bo angry ; but the Lord has
done it. Can you, then, murmur ? AYill you not say —
" Thee at all times will I bless ;
Having tiieo I all possess ;
How can I bereaved be,
Since I can not part with theo ?"
And pardon me when I say, finally, that I think this doc-
trine, if fully believed, ought to keep us always in an equable
frame of mind. One of the things we most want is, to have
our equilibrium always kept up. Sometimes we are elated.
If I ever find myself elated I know what is coming. I know
that I shall be depressed in a very hw hours. If the balance
goes too much up it is sure to come down again. The hap-
piest state of mind is to be always on the equilibrium. If
good things come, thank God for them ; but do not set your
heart upon them. If good things go, thank God that he has
taken them himself, and still bless his name. Bear all. He
who feels that every thing cometh to pass according to God's
will, hath a great main-stay to Ids soul. He need not be
shaken to and fro by every wind that bloweth ; for he is fast
bound, so that lie need not move. This is an anchor cast into
the sea. While the other ships are drilling far away, he can
ride calmly through.
Strive, dear friends, to believe this, and maintain as the con-
sequence of it, that continual calm and peace which render
life so happy. Do not get fearing ills that may come to-mor-
row ; either they will not come, or else they will bring good
with them. If you have evils to-day, do not multiply them
by fearing those of to-morrow. "Sufiicient unto the day is
the evil thereof." Oh, I would to God, that some of you
who are full of carking care and anxiety, could be delivered
from it by a belief in providence ; and when you onco get
17
886 PROVIDENCE.
into that quiet frame, which this doctriae engenders, you will
be prepared for those higher exercises of communion and fel-
lowship VAth Christ, to which distracting care is ever a fearful
detriment, if not an entire preventive.
But as for you who fear not God, remember, the stones of
the field are in league against you; the heavens cry to the
earth and the earth answer eth to the heavens, for vengeance
upon you on account of your sins. For you there is nothing
good, every thing is in rebellion against you. Oh that God
might bring you into peace with him, and then you would be
at rest with all beside. " Seek first the kingdom of God and
his righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you."
The Lord bless you in this, for Jesus' sake. Amen.
SERMON XXIV.
THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OP THE CHURCH.
" The Lord will go before you ; and the God of Israel wll be your rero-
ward." — Is-UAH, lii. 12.
The church of Christ is continually represented under the
figure of an army ; yet its Captain is the Prince of Peace ;
its object is the establishment of peace, and its soldiers are
men of a peaceful disposition. The spirit of war is at the ex-
tremely opposite point to the spirit of the gospel. Yet neverthe-
less, the church on earth has been, and until the second advent
must be, the church militant, the church armed, the church war-
nng, the church conquering. And how is this ? It is in the very
order of things that so it must be. Truth could not be truth in
this world if it were not a warring thing, and we should at once
suspect it were not true if error were friends with it. The
spotless purity of truth must always be at war with the black-
ness of heresy and lies. I say again, it would cast a suspicion
upon its own nature ; we should feel at once that it was not
true, if it were not at enmity with the false. And so at this
present time, the church of Christ, being in herself the only
incarnation of truth left upon this world, must be at war with
error of every kind of shape ; or if she Avere not, we should at
once conclude that she was not herself the church of the liv-
ing God. It is but a rule of nature tliat holiness must be at
enmity with sin. That would be but a mock purity which
could lie side by side with iniquity and claim its kinship.
"Shall the throne of iniquity have fellowship with thee?"
Shall Christ and Belial walk together? Shall the holy be
linked with the unholy ? If it were so, beloved, we might
then not only suspect that the church was not the holy, uni-
versal and apostolic church ; we might not only suspect it, but
388 THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
we might beyond suspicion pronounce a verdict upon her,
"Thou art no more Christ's bride ; thou art an antichrist, an
apostate. Reprobate silver shall men call thee, because thou
hast not learned to distinguish between the precious and the
vile." Thus, you see, if the church be a true church, and a
holy church, she must be armed: there are so many untrue
things and unholy things, that she must be perpetually with
her sword in her hand, carrying on combat against them.
And every child of God proveth by experience that this is
the land of war. We are not yet come to the time when
every man shall sit under his vine and under his fig tree, none
daring to make him afraid. The mountains do not bring
peace to the people, nor the little hills righteousness. On the
contrary, the children of God hear the sound of war; the
shrill clarion is constantly sounding in their ears; they are
comj)elled to carry with them the sword and the shield, and
constantly to gird their armor on, for they are not yet come
to the land of peace; they are in an enemy's country, and
every day will convince them that such is their position. Now,
how comforting is this text to the believer who recognizes
himself as a soldier, and the whole church as an army ! The
church has its vanguard : " Jehovah will go before you." The
church is also in danger behind ; enemies may attack her in
her hinder part, "and the God of Israel shall be her rere ward."
So that the army is safe from enemies in front — and God alone
knoweth their strength ; and it is also perfectly secure from
any foes behind, however malicious and powerful they may
be; for Jehovah is in the van, and the covenant God of Israel
is behind : therefore the whole army is safe.
I shall first consider this as it respects the church of God ;
and then, in the second place, I shall endeavor to consider it
as it respects us^ as iyidividual believers. May God comfort
our hearts while considering this precious truth !
I. First, consider the whole church of god as an army.
Remember that part of the host have crossed the flood ; a
large part of the army are standing this day upon the hills of
glory ; having overcome and triumphed. As for the rear, it
stretches far into the future ; some portions are as yet uncre-
THE VANGUARD AND KEREWARD OP THE CHURCH. 389
ated ; the last of God's elect are not perhaps yet in existence.
The rear-guard will be brought up in that day when the last
vessel of mercy is full to the brim of grace, the last prodigal
is restored to liis Father's house, and the last of Christ's re-
deemed ones redeemed by power, as they were of old re-
deemed by blood. Xow, cast your eye forward to the front
of tiie great army of God's elect, and you see this great truth
coming up with great brilliance before you : " Jehovah shall
go before youP Is not this true ? Have you never heard of
the eternal counsel and of the everlasting covenant ? Did
that not go before the church ? Yea, my brethren, it went
before manhood's existence, before the creation of this world
that was to be the stage whereon the church should play its
part, before the formation of the universe itself, when as yet
all things that we now behold were unborn, when God lived
alone in solitary majesty without a fellow, when there were no
creatures. If there were such an eternity, an eternity filled
with the Creator, and not one creature with him, even then it
was, that God determined in his mind that he would form a
people to himself who should show forth his praise ; it was
then that he settled how men should be redeemed; it was then
the council of peace "vvas held between the three divine per-
sons, and it was determined that the Father should give the
Son, that the Son should give himself, that the Holy Spirit
should be the active agent to fetch out all the lost sheep, and
restore them to the fold. Oh ! think, beloved, of that great
text which says, " His goings forth were of old, even from
everlasting." Do not think that the gospel is a new thing ; it
is older than your hoary mountains, nay, it is older than the
first-born sons of light. Before that "beginning," when God
created the heavens and the earth, there was another " begin-
ning," for " in the beginning was the Word, and the Word
was with God, and the Word was God." And assuredly, the
gospel was ever in the TFbrc?, for Jesus was set up from ever-
lasting as the great head of the covenant of grace. Behold,
then, the glorious Jehovah in the Trinity of his persons, tread-
ing the pathless depths of eternity, that a way for his elect
might be prepared herein. He has gone before us.
390 THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
Take another view of the case. Jehovah shall go before
you. Has he not gone before his church in act and deed ?
Perilous has been the journey of the church from the day
when first it left Paradise even until now. When the church
left Paradise, I say, for I believe that Adam and Eve were in
the church of God, for I believe that both of them were re-
deemed souls, chosen of God, and precious. I see God give
the promise to them before they leave the garden, and they
go out from the garden, the church of God. Since that time,
what a path has the church had to tread, but how faithfully
has Jehovah led the way. We see the floods gather round
about her, but even then she floats safely in the ark which Je-
hovah had provided for her beforehand, for the Lord had gone
before her. I see the church going out from Ur of the Chal-
dees. It is but a little church, with the patriarch Abraham at
its head. I see that little church dwelling in an enemy's coun-
try, moving to and fro ; but I observe how the Lord is its con-
stant leader — " When they went from one nation to another,
from one kingdom to another people ; he sufiered no man to
do them wrong : yea, he reproved kings for their sakes ; say-
ing. Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.'*
I see the church afterwards going down to the lands of the
cruel Pharaohs. It was a black part of her pilgrimage, for
she was going to the lash of the taskmaster and to the heat
of the burning, fiery furnace ; but I see Joseph going down
before, Jehovah's great representative ; Joseph goeth down
into Egypt, and he saith, " God sent me before you to pro-
vide a place for you in the time of famine." So sings the
Psalmist, " He sent a man before them, even Joseph, who was
sold for a servant ; whose feet they hurt with fetters : he was
laid in iron : until the time that his word came : the word of
the Lord tried him. The king sent and loosed him ; even the
ruler of the people, and let him go free. He made him lord
of his house, and ruler of all his substance : to bind his princes
at his pleasure ; and teach his senators wisdom. Israel also
came into Egypt ; and Jacob sojourned in the land of Ham."
But now the church has to come up out of Egypt, and God
goes before her still ; " but made his own people to go forth
THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OF THE CHURCH. 391
like sheep, and guided tliem in the wilderness like a flock. And
ue led them on safely, so tliat they feared not : but the sea over-
whelmed their enemies'." Tlie Red sea is before them ; Jehovah
goes in front, and dries up the sea. The desert must then be
trodden ; Jehovah marches in front, and scatters manna with
both his hands ; he splits the rock, and sends out a living
stream. For forty years the church wanders there ; Jehovah
is with them ; the fiery cloud-pillar leads them all their jour-
ney through. And now they come to the banks of Jordan ;
they are about to enter into the promised land ; Jehovah goes
before them, and the Jordan is driven back, and the floods
are dry. They came into the country of the mighty ones, the
sons of Anak, men that were, of the race of giants ; but Jeho-
vah was gone before them ; the hornet was sent and the pes-
tilence, so that when they came they said it was a land that
did eat up the inhabitants thereof, for God himself with the
sword and the pestilence w^as mowing down their foes that
they might be an easier victory. " And he brought them to
the border of his sanctuary, even to this mountain, which his
right hand had purchased. He cast out the heathen also be-
fore them, and divided them an inheritance by line, and made
the tribes of Israel to dwell in their tents."
But why need I go through all the pages of the history of
the church of God in the days of the old dispensation ? Hath
it not been true from the days of John .the Baptist until now ?
Brethren, bow can ye account for the glorious triumphs of the
church if ye deny the fact that God has gone before her ? I
see the church emerge, as it were, from the bowels of Christ.
Twelve fishermen — what are these to do ? Do ? Why they
are to shake the world, to uproot old systems of paganism that
have become venerable, and whose antiquity seems a guaran-
tee that men will never renounce tliem. These men are to
blot out the name of Jupiter ; they are to cast Venus from
her licentious throne ; they are to pull down the temple of
Delphos, scatter all the oracles, and disrobe the priests ; these
men are to overthrow a system and an empire of error that
has stood for thousands of years — a system which has brought
in to its help all the philosophy of learning and all the pomp
392 THE VANGUARD AXD REREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
of power ; — these twelve fishermen are to do it. And they
have done it, they have done it. The gods of the heathen are
cast down ; they only remain among ns as memorials of men's
folly ; but who bows down to Jupiter now ? Where is the
worshiper of Ashtoroth ? Who calls Diana a divinity ? The
twelve fishermen have done it ; they have erased from the
world the old system of superstition ; it seemeed old as the
eternal hills, yet have they dug up its foundations and scat-
tered them to the winds. Could they have accomplished it
unless Jehovah had been in the van and led the way ? No,
beloved, if ye read the history of the church, ye will be com^
pelled to confess that whenever she went forward she could
discern the footsteps of Jehovah, leading the way. Our mis-
sionaries in these later times tell us that when they went to
the South Seas to preach the gospel, there was an evident pre-
paredness in the minds of the people for the reception of the
truth, and I believe that at this time, if the church were true
to herself, there are nations and people and tribes that are just
in the condition of the ancient Canaanites : the hornet is among
them making way for the Lord's army to win an easy conquest.
But sure I am that never minister ascends the pulpit, if he be
a true minister of Christ, never missionary crosses the sea,
n^ver Sunday School teacher goes to his work, but that Jeho-
vah goes before him to help him if he goes in earnest prayer
and cQUstant faith. If I were a poet I think I have a subject
that might suggest a grand epic poem — the march of the
church through the world, with Jehovah in her fore-front.
See, when first she comes forth, " the kings of the earth stand
up, and the rulers take counsel together, against the Lord and
against his anointed." Alas, poor church, what is now thy
fate ? But I hear a voice a-head. What is it ? It is a laugh.
Who laughs ? Why the leader of the army laughs. " He
that sitteth in the heavens shall laugh at them. The Lord
shall have them in derision." And shall vre that are behind
be mourning ? Shall the church tremble ? Let her call to
mind the days of old, and comfort herself, that the Breaker
has gone up before her, and the King at the head of her.
But the enemy approaches. They bring out the rack, the
THE VAXGUARD AND REKEWARD OF TUE CHURCH. 393
bloody sword, the burning fagot. The march of the church
lies through the flames, the flood must be forded, torments
must be endured. Did the church ever stop a moment in its
march for all the martyrdoms that fell upon her like the drops
of a fiery shower ? Never, never did the church seem to
march on with feet so ready, never were her steps so firm as
when she dipped her foot each time in blood, and every mo-
ment passed through the tire. It was the marvel of those
days that men were better Christians then, and more willing
to make a profession of Christ than they are even now. And
whereas this seems to be the day of cravens, the time of per-
secution w^as the age of heroes, the time of the great and the
bold. And why ? Because God had gone beforehand with
his church, and provided stores of grace for stores of trouble,
shelter and mercy for tempests and persecution, abundance of
strength for a superfluity of trial. Happy is the church, be-
cause God has gone before her. Whether it were over the
tops of the mountains, where her pastors fell frozen by cold,
or whether it were in the depths of the dungeon where her
confessors expired upon the rack, whether it were in the flame
or at the block, everywhere God went before his church, and
she came forth triunij)hant because her great vanguard had
cleared tlie way.
And now, beloved, we have come to the sweet part of the
text, which saith, " And the God of Israel shall be the rere-
ward." The original Hebrew is, " God of Israel shall gather
you up." Armies in the time of war diminish by reason of
stragglers, some of whom desert, and others of whom are
overcouie by fatigue ; but the army of God is " gathered up j"
none desert from it if they bo real soldiers of the cross, and
none drop down upon the road. The God of Israel gathers
them up. He who goes before, like a shepherd before the
flock, providing pasture for them, comes behind that he may
gather the lambs in "his arms — that he may gently lead those
that are with young. "The God of Israel is your rereward."
Now the church of Christ has been frequently attacked in the
rear. It often happens that the enemy, tired of opposing her
onward march by open persecution, attempts to malign the
.394 THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
church concerning somethnig that has either been taught, or
revealed, or done in past ages. Now, the God of Israel is our
rereward. I am never at trouble about the attacks of infidels
or heretics, however vigorously they may assault the doctrines
of the gospel. I will leave them alone ; I have no answer for
their logic ; if they look to be resisted by mere reason, they
look in vain; I have the simple answer of an affirmation,
grounded upon the fact that God had said it. It is the only
warfare I will enter into with them. If they must attack the
rear let them fight with Jehovah himself. If the doctrines of
the gospel be as base as they say they are, let them cast dis-
credit upon God, who revealed the doctrines ; let them settle
the question between God's supreme wisdom and their own
pitiful pretensions to knowledge. It is not for Christian men
to fear about the rear of the church. The doctrines of the
gospel, which are like the heavy baggage carried in the rear,
or like the great guns kept behind against the time when they
are wanted in the hour of battle, these are quite safe. The
Amalekites may fall upon the stufi*, or the Philistines may at-
tack the ammunition, all is safe, for God is in the rereward ;
and let them but appear against our rear, and they sliall in-
stantly be put to the rout.
But I am thinking that perhaps the later trials of the church
may represent the rereward. There are to come, perhaps, to
the church, in days that are approaching, fiercer persecutions
than she has ever known. We can not tell, we are no pre-
tenders to prophecy, but we know that it always has been so
with the church — a time of prosperity and then a period of
persecution. She has a Solomon, and she reigns in all her
glory under his shadow ; but in after years Antiochus op-
presses her, and she needs a Judas Maccaba3us to deliver her.
Perhaps we are liviug in an age too soft for the church. The
Capuan holidays that ruined the soldiers of Hannibal may ruin
the church now ; ease and lack of persecution may put us off
our guard. Perhaps there may come yet fiercer times for us.
I know not what is meant by the battle of Armageddon, but
sometimes I fear we are to expect trial and trouble in years
to come ; but certain I am, however fierce those troubles shall
THE VANGUARD AND KEREWARD OP THE CHURCH. 395
be, that God, who has gone before his church in olden times,
will gather up the rear, and she who has been ecclesia victrix
— the church the conqueror — will still be the same, and her
rear shall constitute at last a part of the church triumphant,
even as already glorified.
Can you now conceive the last great day when Jehovah,
the rereward, shall gather up his people ? The time is come ;
the last of the salt is about to be removed ; the church of God
is now about to be carried up to dwell with her husband. Do
you see the church moving upward towards heaven ? Behind
her she leaves a world in flames ; she sees the earth destroyed,
God removes it as a shepherd's tent ; the inhabitants thereof are
gone, and the tent must be folded up ; as a vesture shall they
be folded up, and they shall be changed. But between the
church and a blazing world, between the church and the terri-
"ble destruction of hell, there is the bright pillar of God's pres-
ence — black to his enemies behind, but bright to his church
in front. The close of the great dispensation of the Mediator
shall be that the God of Israel shall be all in all, his church
shall be completely safe ; he shall have gathered up all things
in one, whether they be things in heaven or things on earth.
Then shall the sonnet of the poet be more than fulfilled to the
rejoicing and perfected church : —
" Daughter of Zion, awako from thy sadness,
Awake, for thy foes shall oppress thco no more ;
Bright o'er thy hill dawns the day-star of gladness ;
Arise, for the night of thy sorrow is o'er.
" Strong were thy foes, but the arm that subdued them,
And scattered their len^ons, was mightier far ;
They fled, Uke the chaff, from the scourge that pursued them —
Vain were their steeds, and their chariots of war.
" Daughter of Zion, the power that hath saved thee.
Extolled with the harp and the timbrel should be :
Shout, for the foe is destroyed that enslaved thee.
The oppressor is vanquished, and Zion is free."
II. Let us turn to the second part of the sermon. This is
the last Sabbath of the year. Two troubles present them-
selves, the future and the past. We shall soon launch into
396 THE VAXGUARD AND RKREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
another year, and hitherto we have found our years, years of
trouble. TVe have had mercies, but still we find this house of
our pilgrimage is not an abiding city, not a mansion of peace and
comfort. Perhaps we are trembling to go forward. Foreseeing
trouble, we know not how we shall be able to endure to the end.
We are standing here and pausing for a v/hile, sitting down up-
on the stone of our Ebenezer to rest ourselves, gazing dubiously
into the future, saying, "Alas ! ^vhat shall I do ? Surely, I shall
one day fall by the hand of the enemy." Brother, arise, arise ;
anoint your head, and wash your face, and fast no longer ; let
this sweet morsel now cheer you ; put this bottle to your lips,
and let your eyes be enlightened : " The Lord Jehovah will go
before you." He has gone before you already. Your future
path has all been marked out in the great decrees of his pre-
destination. You shall not tread a step which is not mapped
out in the great chart of God's decree. Your troubles have
been already weighed for you in the scales of his love ; your
labor is already set aside for you to accomplish by the hand of
his wisdom. Depend upon it,
" Tour times of trial and of grief,
Your times of joy and sweet relief,
All Shall come and last and end
As shall please your heavenly Eriend."
Remember, you are not a child of chance. If your were,
you might indeed fear. You will go nowhere next year ex-
cept where God shall send you. You shall be thrust into the
hot coals of the fire, but God. shall put you there. You shall
perhaps be much depressed in spirit, but that heaviness shall
be for your good, and shall come from your Father ; you shall
have the rod, but it shall not be the rod of the wicked — it
shall be in God's hand. Oh ! how comfortable the thought
that every thing is in the hand of God, and that all that may
occur to me during the future years of my life is foreordained
and overruled by the great Jehovah, who is my Father and
my Friend ! Now stop. Christian, a moment, and realize the
idea that God has gone before, mapping the way ; and then
let me ask you, if you could now this morning be allowed to
THE VANGUARD AND KEREWARD OP THE CHURCH. 397
draw a fresh map, would you do it ? If he should condescend
to say, " Now your circumstances next year shall be just what
you like ; y^u shall have your own way, and go your own
route to heaven, would you dare, even with God's permission,
to draw a new chart?" If you should have that presumption,
I know the result : you would find that you had gone the
wrong way; you would soon be glad enough to retrace your
steps, and with many tears you would go to your heavenly Fa-
ther, and say, " My Father, I have had enough to do with
the helm of this ship ; it is hard work to hold it ; do what
thou wilt with it ; steer which way thou pleasest, though it be
through the deepest floods and the hottest flame. I am weary,
I sleep at the tiller, I can not guide the ship, my tears fall fast
from my eyes, for when I think to be wise I find myself to
have committed folly ; when I thought I was promoting my
own advantage in my scheme, I find I am rushing into a sea
of losses." God, then, has gone before you in the decree of
his predestination.
And recollect, God has gone before you in all your future
journey in the actual prepa7'ations of his providoice.
I do not think I am capable this morning, for my mind seems
to wander far more than I could desire, of sketching how it is,
but so it is, that God always makes a providence beforehand
ready for his people when they get to the place. My God
does not hastily erect a tent over me when I come to a certain
spot. Ko ; he builds an inn of mercy, and before I get there
he provides a bed of comfort, and stores up the old wines of
grace, that I may feast upon them. And all this is done long
before I come to the actual necessity. None of us can tell
how the future leans on the past, how a simple act of to-day
shall bring about a grand event in a hundred years. We do
not know how the future lies in the bowels of the past, and
how what is to be is the child of t/iat which is. As all men
spring from their progenitors, so the providence of to-day
springs from the providence of a hundred years past. The
events of next year have been forestalled by God in what he
has done this year and years before. I am certain of this,
that on the road I am to travel during the next year, every
398 THE VANGUARD AND REREWARD OF THE CHURCH.
thing is ready for me. I am not going a road of hills and
deep valleys, but I have heard the voice of one crying in the
wilderness, " Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight
in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be
exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and
the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places
plain ; and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all
flesh shall see it together ; for the mouth of the Lord hath
spoken it." " I will open rivers in high places, and fountains
in the midst of the valleys ; I will make the wilderness a pool
of water, and the dry land springs of water." " And I will
bring the blind by a way that they knew not ; I will lead
them in paths that they have not known ; I will make dark-
ness light before them, and crooked things straight. These
things will I do unto them, and not forsake them." I say
again, you are not going through a land that God has not pre-
pared for you. O Israel, there is a well of Elim made for you
long before you came out of Egypt, and there are palm trees
that have been growing there that they might just come to
the fruit-bearing state, and have fruit upon them, when you
come there. O Israel, God is not going to extemporize a Ca-
naan for you ; it ia ready made, it is even now flowing with
milk and honey; the vines that are to bear you grapes of
Eschol are already there and coming to perfection. God has
forestalled your trials and troubles for the next year. The
Lord Jehovah has gone before you.
There is also another phase of this subject. Jehovah has
gone before us in the incaryiation of Christ. As to our future
troubles for next year and the remnant of our days, Jesus
Christ has borne them all before. As for temptation, he " has
been tempted in all points like as we are, yet without sin."
As for trials and sorrows, he has felt all we can possibly feel,
and infinitely more. As for our difiiculties, Christ has trodden
the road before. We may rest quite sure that we shall not
go anywhere where Christ has not gone. The way of God's
people in providence is the exact track of Christ himself The
footsteps of the flock are identical with the footsteps of the
shepherd, so far as they follow the leading and guidings of God.
THE VANGUARD AND REBEWARD OF THE CHURCH. 399
And there is this reflection also, that, inasmuch as Christ has
gone before us, he has done something in that going before,
for he has conquered every foe that lies in his way. Cheer up
now, thou faint-hearted warrior. Not only has Christ traveled
the road, but he has slain thine enemies. Dost thou dread
sin ? he has nailed it to his cross. Dost thou dread Death ? he
has been the death of Death. Art thou afraid of hell ? he has
barred it against the advent of any of his children ; they shall
never see the gulf of perdition. Whatever foes may be before
the Christian, they are all overcome. There are lions, but
their teeth are broken ; there are serpents, but their fangs are
extracted ; there are rivers, but they are bridged or fordable ;
there are flames, but we have upon lis that matchless garment
which renders us invulnerable to fire. The sword that has
been forged against us is already blunted ; the instruments of
war which the enemy is preparing have already lost their
point. God has taken away in the person of Christ all the
power that any thing can have to hurt us. Well, then, the
army may safely march on and you may go joyously along your
journey, for all your enemies are conquered beforehand. What
shall you do but march on to take the prey ? They are beaten,
they are vanquished ; all you have to do is to divide the spoil.
Your future life shall be only the dividing of the spoil. You
shall, it is true, often dread combat ; and you shall sometimes
have to wield the spear, but your fight shall be with a van-
quished foe. His head is broken ; he may attempt to injure
you, but his strength shall not be sufficient for his malicious
design. Your victory shall be easy, and your treasure shall
be beyond all count. Come boldly on, then, for Jehovah shall
go before you. This shall be our sweet song when we come
to the river of death : black are its streams, and there are
terrors there of which I can not dream. But shall I fear to
go through the dark stream if Jehovah goes before me?
There may be goblins of frightful shape, there may be horrors
of a hellish hue, but thou, Jehovah, shalt clear the way, thou
shalt bid each enemy begone, and each fiend shall flee at thy
bidding. I may march safely on. So confident would I feel
in this great vanguard, thai shouldst thou bid me go through
400 THE VANGUARD AND REREWAKD OF THE CHURCH.
hell itself, I need not fear all the terrors of the place of doona ;
for if Jehovah went before, he would tread out even to the
last spark the fire ; he would quench even to the last flame
that burning ; and the child of God might marcli safely through
the flame that had been quenched and the ashes that were ex-
tinguished. Let us therefore never be troubled about the fu-
tui'e. It is all safe, for Jehovah has gone before.
• Now I hear one say, "The future seldom troubles me, sir ;
it is the past — what I have done and what I have not done —
the years that are gone — how I have sinned, and how I have
not served my Master as I ought. These things grieve me,
and sometimes my old sins start up in my recollection and ac-
cuse me ; ' What ! shalt thou be saved ?' say they ; ' remember
us.' And they spring up in number like the sands of the sea.
I can not deny that I have committed all these sins, nor can I
say that they are not the most guilty of iniquities. Oh ! it is
the rereward that is most unsafe. I dread most the sins of the
past." O beloved, the God of Israel shall be your rereward.
Notice the different titles. The first is " the Lord," or prop-
erly " Jehovah" — " Jehovah will go before you." That is
the I am, full of omniscience and omnipotence. The second
title is " God of Israel," that is to say, the God of the Cove-
nant. We want the God of the Covenant behind, because it
is not in the capacity of the I am, the omnipotent, that wo
require him to pardon sin, to accept our persons, to blot out
the past, and to remove iniquity by the blood of Christ ; it is
as the God of the Covenant that he does that. He goes be-
hind ; here he finds that his child has left a black mark, and
he takes that away ; he finds here a heap of rubbish, a mass
of broken good works, and here another load of evil, of filth,
and he carefully removes all, so that in that track of his chil-
dren there is not a spot or a blemish ; and though they have
trodden the road, the most observant of their foes at the last
great day shall not be able to find that they have done any
mischief on their journey, or one wrong thing in all their
march, for the God of Israel hath so swept the way that he has
taken away their iniquities and cast their sins behind his back.
Now let me always think, that I have God behind rae as
THE VANGUARD AXD EEEEWAED OF THE CHURCH. 401
well as before me. Let not the memories of the past, though
they cause me grief, cause me despair. Let me never bemoan
because of past trial or past bereavement ; let me never be
cast down on account of past sin ; but let me look to Christ
for the pardon of the past ; and to God for the sanctification
of my past troubles. Let me believe that he who has cleared
the way before me, has removed all enemies from behind me,
that I am and must be perpetually safe. And now, are there
any here to-day whose hearts God hath touched, who desire to
join this great army ? Have I one here who has been enlisted
in the black army of the devil, and has long been fighting his
way against God and against right ? I pray that he may be
compelled this day to ground his arms, and surrender at dis-
cretion to God. Sinner, if the Lord inclines thine heart this
day to yield up thyself to him, the past shall all be blotted
out ; God shall be thy rereward. As for thy innumerable sins,
leave them to Christ, he will make short work of them ; by
his blood he will slay them all ; they shall not be mentioned
against thee for ever. And as for the future, thou chief of
sinners, if now thou enlistest into the army of Christ by faith,
thou shalt find the future shall be strewn with the gold of
God's grace, and the silver of his temporal mercies ; thou
shalt have enough and to spare, from this day forth even to
the end, and at the last thou shalt be gathered in by the great
arms of God, that constitute the rear-guard of his heavenly
army. Come, ye chief of sinners, come away to Christ. He
now invites you to come to him ; he asks nothing of you as a
preparation. Christ's regiment is made up of men that are in
debt and are discontented : the refuse of the world Christ
will take : the scum, the dross, the oflTal of the universe Christ
loves ; the sweepings of our dens of iniquity, the very leavings
of the devil's mill Christ is willing to receive, the chief of
sinners, those who have been ministers in guilt, abortions of
iniquity. Come to him ; lay hold of him by faith ; look to
him as he hangs upon the tree ; believe in his merits, and then
shall this promise be yours, with innumerable others that are
rich beyond all estimation ; and you shall rejoice that Jehovah
is gone before you, and that the God of Israel is your rereward.
SERMON XXV.
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
"These that have turned the world upside down ai-e come hitlier also." —
Acts, xvii. 6.
This is just an old version of an ofl-repeated story. When
disturbances arise in a state, and rebellions and mutinies cause
blood to be shed, it is still the custom to cry, " The Christians
have done this." In the days of Jesus we know that it was
laid to the charge of our blessed and divine Master, that he
was a stirrer of sedition, whereas he himself had refused to be
a king, when his followers would have taken him by force to
make him one, for he said, "My kingdom is not of this
world ;" yet was he crucified under the two false charges of
sedition and blasphemy. The same thing occurred with the
apostles. Wherever they went to preach the gospel, the
Jews who opposed them sought to stir up the refuse of the
city to put an end to their ministiy ; and then, when a great
tumult had been made by the Jews themselves, who had
taken unto them certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, and
gathered a company, and set all the city in an uproar, and as-
saulted the house of Jason, and sought to bring him out to
the people, then the Jews laid the tumult and the uproar at
the door of the apostles, saying, " These that have turned the
world upside down are come hither also." This plan was fol-
lowed all through the Roman empire, until Christianity be-
came the state religion. There was never a calamity befell
Rome, never a war arose, never a famine or a plague, but the
vulgar multitude cried, "The Christians to the lions! The
Christians have done this." Kero himself imputed the burn-
ing of Rome, of which *he himself doubtless was the incen-
diary, to the Christians. The believers in Jesus were slan-
dered as if they were the common sewer into which all the
THE -WORLD TTR^TH) UTSIDE DQ-^VN. 403
filth of sin was to be poui'ed ; whereas, they were like Solomon's
great brazen sea, which was full of the purest water, wherein
even priests themselves might wash their robes. And you
will remark, that to this day the world still lays its ills at the
door of the Christians. Was it not the foolish cry, a few
months ago, and are there not some weak-minded individuals
who still believe it, that the great massacre and mutiny in
India were caused by the missionaries. Forsooth, the men
who turned the world upside down had gone there also ; and
because men broke through all the restraints of nature and of
law, and committed deeds for which fiends might blush, this
must be laid at the door of Christ's holy gospel, and the men
of peace must bear on theii* shoulders the blame of war !
Ah ! we need not refute this : the calumny is too idle to need
a refutation. Can it be true, that he whose gospel is love
should be the fomenter of disturbance ? Can it be fair, for a
moment, to lay mutiny and rebellion at the door of the gospel,
the very motto of which is, " Peace on earth, good wiU to-
wards men ?" Did not our Master say, " Render unto Caesar
the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are
God's ?" Did he not himself pay tribute, though he sent to
the fish of the sea, to get the shekel ? And have not his fol-
lowers at all times been a peaceful generation ? — save only and
except where the liberty of their conscience was touched, and
then they were not the men to bow their knees to tyrants and
kings, but with brave old Oliver they did bind their kings in
chains, and their nobles m fetters of iron, as they will do
again, if their liberty ever should be infringed, so that they
should not have power to worship God as they ought.
We beUeve that what these Jews said of the apostles, was
just a downright, willful lie. They knew better. The apos-
tles were not the disturbers of states. It is true, they
preached that which would disturb the sinful constitution of
a kingdom, and which would disturb the evil practices of
false priests ; but they never meant to set men m an uproar.
They did come to set men at arms with sin ; they did draw
the sword aginst iniquity ; but against men as men, against
Idngs as kings, they had no battle • it was with iniquity and
404 THE WOELD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
sin, and wrong everywhere, that they proclaimed an everlast-
ing warfare. But still, brethren, there is many a true w^ord
spoken in jest, we say, and surely there is many a true word
spoken in malice. They said the apostles turned the world
upside down. They meant by that, that they were disturbers
of the peace. But they said a great true thing ; for Christ's
gospel does turn the world upside down. It was the wrong
w^ay upwards before, and now that the gospel is preached, and
when it shall prevail, it will just set the world right by turn-
ing it upside down.
And now I shall try to show how, in the world at large^
Christ's gospel turns the w^orld upside down ; and then I
shall endeavor, as w^ell as God shall help me, to show how the
little world that is within every man is turned upside down,
when he becomes a believer in the gospel of Christ.
I. First, then, the gospel of Christ turns the world upside
down, WITH EEGAED TO THE POSITION OF DIFFERENT CLASSES
OF MEN.
In the esteem of men, the kingdom of heaven is something
like this. High there on the summit, there sits the most
grand rabbi, the right venerable, estimable and excellent
doctor of divinity, the great philosopher, the highly learned,
the deeply instructed, the immensely intellectual man. He
sits on the apex : he is the highest, because he is the wisest.
And just below him there is a class of men who are deeply
studied — not quite so skilled as the former, but still exceeding
wise — who look down at those who stand at the basement of
the pyramid, and who say to them, " Ah, they are the ignoble
multitude, they know nothing at all." A little lower down,
we come to the sober, respectable, thinking men, not those
who set up for teachers, but those who seldom will be taught,
because they already in their own opinion know all that is to
be learned. Then after them there come a still larger num-
ber of very estimable folks, who are exceeding wise in worldly
wisdom, although not quite so exalted as the philosopher and
the rabbi. Lower still come those who liave just a respect-
able amount of wisdom and knowledge ; and then at the very
basement there come the fool, and the little child, and the
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. 405
babe. When we look at these we say, " This is the wisdom
of this world. Behold how gi-eat a difference there is be-
tween the babe at the bottom, and the learned doctor on the
summit! How w^ide the distinction between the ignorant
simpleton who forms the hard, rocky, stubborn basement, and
the wise man of polished marble, who there stands resplen-
dent at the apex of the pyramid." Now, just see how Christ
turns the world upside down. There it stands. He just re-
verses it. "Except ye be converted, and become as little
children, ye can in no wdse enter into the kingdom of heaven."
" Not many great men after the flesh, not many mighty men
are chosen ; but God hath chosen the poor of this world, rich
in faith, heirs of the kingdom." It is just turning the whole
social fabric upside down ; and the wise man finds now that
he has to go up stairs towards his simplicity. He has been all
his life trying as far as he could, to get away from the sim-
plicity of the credulous child ; he has been thinking, and judg-
ing, and weighing, and bringing his logic to cut up every
truth he heard, and now ho has to begin, and go up again ;
he has to become a little child, and turn back to his former
simplicity. This is the w^orld turned upside down, with a
vengeance ; and therefore the wise seldom love it.
If you wish to see the world turned upside down to per-
fection, just turn to the fifth chapter of the Gospel of Mat-
thew : here you have a whole summary of the world reversed.
Jesus Christ turned the world upside down the first sermon
he preached. Look at the third verse. ^'' JBlessed are the
poor in spirit^ for theirs is the kmgdom of heaven.'''* Now,
we like a man who has an ambitious spirit — a man who, as we
say, knows how to push his way in the world — ^who looks up
— is not contented with the position that he occupies, but is
always for climbing higher and higher. And we have a very
fair opinion too of a man, who has a very fair opinion of him-
self — a man who is not going to bow and cringe. He will
have his rights, that ho will ; he will not give way to any-
body. He believes himself to be somewhat, and he will stand
on his own belief, and will prove it to the world yet. He is
not one of your poor, mean-spirited follows, who arc content
400 THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
with poverty, and sit still. He will not be contented. Now
such a man as this the world admires. But Christ just turns
that upside down, and says, "Blessed are the poor in spirit,
for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." The men who have
no strength of their own, but look for all to Christ — the men
who have no spirit to run with a wicked world, but who
would rather suffer an injury than resent one — the men who
are lowly and of a humble carriage, who seek not to lift their
heads above their fellows ; who if they be great have great-
ness thrust upon them, but never seek it — who are content
along the cool, sequestered vale of life, to keep the even
tenor of their way — who seem to have always ringing in
their ears, " Seekest thou great things for thyself? Seek them
not" — " the poor in spirit," happy in their poverty, who are
content with the Lord's providence, and think themselves far
more rich than they deserve to be. Xow, these men Christ
says, are blessed. The world says, they are soft, they are
fools ; but Christ puts those on the top whom the world puts
at the bottom. " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is
the kingdom of heaven."
Then there is another lot of people in the world ; they are
always mourning. They do not let you see it often, for their
Master has told them when they fast, to anoint their face, that
they appear not unto men to fast ; but still secretly before
God they have to groan ; they hang their harps upon the wil-
lows ; they mourn for their own sin, and then they mourn for
the sin of the times. The world says of these, " They are a
moping, melancholy set ; I would not care to belong to their
number ;" and the gay reveler comes iuj and he almost spits
upon them in his scorn. For what are they? They love the
darkness. They are the willows of the stream; but this man,
like the proud poplar, lifts his head, and is swayed to and fro
in the wind of his joy, boasting of his greatness, and his free-
dom. Hear how the gay youth talks to his mourning friend,
who is under conviction of sin. " Ah ! yours is a morbid dis-
position ; I pity you ; you ought to be under the hand of a
physician. You go mourning through this world. What a
miserable thing, to be plunging through waves of tribulation I
THE WORLD TUENED UPSIDE DOWN. 407
What a dismal case is yours ! I would not stand in your shoes
and be in your position for all the world." No, but Christ
turns the world upside down ; and so those people whom you
think to be mournful and sorrowful, are the very ones who are
to rejoice. For read the fourth verse, " Blessed are they that
mourn ; for they shall be comforted." Yes, worldling, your
joy is like the crackling of thorns under a pot. It blaze th a
little, and maketh a great noise : it is soon done with. But
" light is soioi for the righteous, and gladness for the upright
in heart." You can not see the light now, because it is sown.
It lies under the clods of poverty, and shame, and persecution,
mayhap. But when the great harvest day shall come, the
blades of light, upstarting at the second coming, shall bring
forth "the full corn in the ear" of bHss and glory everlasting.
O ye mourning souls, be glad ; for whereas the world puts you
beneath it, Christ puts you above the world's head. When
he turns the world upside down, he says you shall be com-
forted.
Then there is another race of people, called " the meeky
You may have met with them now and then. Let me describe
the opposite. I know a man who never feels happy unless he
has a lawsuit ; he would never pay a bill unless he had a writ
about it. He is fond of law. The idea of pulling another up
before the court is a great delicacy to him. A slight affront
he would not easily forget. He has a very large amount of
mock dignity ; and if he be never so shghtly touched, if a
harsh word be spoken against him, or one slander uttered, he
is down upon his enemy at once ; for he is a man of hard
temper, and he casts the debtor into prison, and verily I say
unto thee, if thou gettest in there by his writ, thou shalt never
come out until thou hast paid the uttermost farthing. Now
the meek are of a very different disposition. You may revile
thcoi, but they will not revile again ; you may injure them, but
they know that their Master lias said, " I say unto thee, resist
not evil." They do not put themselves into airs and passions
on a slight affront, for they know that all men are imperfect,
and therefore they think that perhaps their brother made a
mistake, and did not wish to hurt their feelings ; and therefore
408 THE WORLD TUENED UPSIDE DOWN.
they say, " Well, if he did not wish to do it, then I will not
be hurt by it ; I dare say he meant well, and therefore I will
take the will for the deed ; and though he spoke harshly, yet
he will be sorry for it to-morrow ; I will not mention it to
him — I will put up with whatever he chooses to say." There
is a slander uttered against him : he says, " Well, let it alone ;
it will die of itself; where no wood is, the fire goeth out."
Another speaketh exceeding ill against him in his hearing ;
but he just holds his tongue ; he is dumb and openeth tfot his
mouth. He is not hke the sons of Zeruiah, who said to David,
" Let us go and take off that dead dog's head, because he
cursed the king." He says, " No, if the Lord hath bidden
him curse, let him curse." " Vengeance is mine ; I will repay,
saith the Lord." He is quite content to bear and forbear, and
put up with a thousand injuries, rather than inflict one ; meekly
and quietly he goes his way through the world, and people
say, " Ah ! such a man as that will never get on ; he will
always be taken in. Why, he will be lending money, and will
never get it back again ; he will be giving his substance to the
poor, and he will never receive it. How stupid he is ! He
allows people to infringe on his rights ; he has no strength of
mind ; he does not know how to stand up for himself, fool that
he is." Ay, but Christ turns it upside down, and he says,
" Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth." Is
not that provoking to you graspers, you high-spirited people,
you lawyers, you that are always trying to bring your neighbor
into trouble touching your rights ? You do it in order that you
may inherit the earth : see how Christ spites you, and treads
your wisdom under feet. He says, " The meek shall iyiherit
the earth?'' After all, very often, the best way to get our
rights is to let them alone. I am quite certain that the safest
way to defend your character is never to say a word about it.
If every person in this place chooses to slander me, and utter
the most furious libels that he pleases, he may rest quite as-
sured he will never have a lawsuit from me. I am not quite
fool enough for that. I have always noticed that when a man
defends himself in a court of law against any slander, he just
does his enemy's business with his own hand. Our enemies
THE AVORLD IX'RNED UPSIDE DOWX. 409
can not hurt us, unless we luirt ourselves. No man's character
was ever really injured except by himself. Be you among the
meek, and you shall inherit the earth. Bear all things, hope
all things, believe all things, and it shall be the best, even on
this earth, in the end.
Do you see that very respectable gentleman yonder, who
has never omitted to attend his church or his chapel twice
every Sunday ever since he became a man. He reads his
Bible, too, and he has family prayers. It is true that there are
certain stories flying about, that he is rather hard upon his
laborers, and exacting at times in his payments ; but does jus-
tice to all men, although no further will he go. This man is
on very good terms with himself; when he gets up in the
morning he always shakes hands with hnnself, and compli-
ments himself on being a very excellent person. He generally
lives in a front street, in his opinion, and the first number in
the street, too. If you speak to him about his state before
God, he says, that if he does not go to heaven nobody will ;
for he pays twenty shillings in the pound to everybody ; he is
strictly upright, and there is no one who can find any fault
"uith his character. Is n't he a good man ? Do n't you envy
him ? — a man who has so excellent an opinion of himself that
he thinks himself perfect ; or if he is not quite perfect, yet he
is so good that he believes that with a little help, he shall
enter into the kingdom of heaven. Well, now, do you see
standing at the back of the church there, a poor woman with
tears running down her eyes ? Come forward, ma'am ; let us
hear your history. She is afraid to come forward ; she dares
not speak in the presence of respectable persons ; but we
gather thus much from her : she has lately found out that she
is full of sin, and she desires to know what she must do to be
saved. Ask her. She tells you she has no merits of her own.
Her song is, " I the chief of sinners am. Oh ! that mercy
would save me !" She never compliments herself upon her
good works, for she says she has none ; all her righteousnesses
are as filthy rags ; she puts her mouth in the very dust when
she prays, and she dares not lift so much as her eyes towards
heaven. You pity that poor woman. You would not like to
18
410 THE WOELD TUENED UPSIDE DOWN.
be in her case. The other man whom I have just mentioned,
stands at the very top of the ladder, does he not ? But this
poor woman stands at the bottom. Now just see the gospel
process — the world turned upside down. " Blessed are they
which do hunger and thirst after righteousness : for they shall
be filled ;" while the man who is content with himself has this
for his portion — " As many as are of the works of the la^7 are
under the curse ;" publicans and harlots enter into the king-
dom of heaven before you, because you seek not the righteous-
ness which is of faith, but you seek it as it were by the works
of the law. So here you see again is the world turned upside
down in the first sermon Christ ever preached.
Now turn to the next beatitude — in the seventh verse —
" Blessed are the merciful : for they shall obtain mercy." Of
this I have already spoken. The merciful are not much re-
spected in this world — at least if they are imprudently merci-
ful ; the man who forgives too much, or who is too generous,
is not considered to be wise. But Christ declares that he who
has been merciful — merciful to supply the wants of the poor,
merciful to forgive his enemies and to pass by ofienses, shall
obtain mercy. Here, again, is the world turned upside down.
" Blessed are the pxire in heart ; for they shall see God."
The world says, " Blessed is the man who indulges in a gay
life." If you ask the common run of mankind who is the
happy man, they will tell you, " The happy man is he .who has
abundance of money, and spends it freely, and is freed from
restraint — who leads a merry dance of life, who drinks deep
of the cup of intoxication — who revels riotously — who, like
the wild horse of the prairie, is not bitted by order, or re-
strained by reason, but who dashes across the ^vide plains of sin,
unharnessed, unguided, unrestrained." This is the man w^hom
the world calls happy : the proud man, the mighty man, the
Nimrod, the man who can do just as he wishes, and who spurns
to keep the narrow way of holiness. Now, the Scripture says,
Not so : " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God."
" Blest is the man who shuns the place
Where sinners love to meet ;
Who fears to tread their wicked ways,
And hates the scoffer's seat" —
TUE AVOELD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. 411
the man who can not touch one thing because that would be
lascivious, nor another because that would spoil his communion
with his "blaster; a man who can not frequent this place of
amusement, because he could not pray there, and can not go
to another, because he could not hope to have his Master's
sanction upon an hour so spent. That man, pure in heart, is
said to be a Puritanical moralist, a strict Sabbatarian, a man
who has not any mind of his own ; but Jesus Christ puts all
straight, for he says, these are the blessed men, these are tli^
happy ones. *' Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall
see God."
And now look at the ninth verse. "What a turning of the
world upside down that is ! You walk through London, and
who are the men that we put upon our columns and pillars,
and upon or park gates, and so on ? Read the ninth verse,
and see how that turns the world upside down. There upon
the very top of the world, high, high up, can be seen the arm-
less sleeve of a Nelson : there he stands, high exalted above
his fellows ; and there, in another place, with a long file up his
back, stands a duke ; and iu another place, riding upon a war
horse, is a mighty man of war. These are the world's blest
heroes. Go into the capital of what empire you choose to
select, and you shall see that the blessed men, who are put
upon pedestals, and who have statues erected to their memory,
who arc put into our St. Paul's Cathedral, and our Westminster
Abbey, are not exactly the men mentioned in the ninth verse.
Let us read it : " Blessed are the peacemaJcers : for they shall
be called the children of God." Ah ! but you do not often
bless the peacemakers, do you ? The man who comes between
two belligerents, and bears the stroke himself — the man who
will lie down on the earth, and plead with others that they
would cease from warfare — these are the blessed. How rarely
are they set on high. They are generally set aside, as people
who can not be blessed, even though it seem that they try to
make others so. Here is the world turned upside down. The
warrior with his garment stained in blood, is put iuto the
ignoble earth, to die and rot ; but the peacemaker is lifted up,
and God's crown of blessing is put around about his head, and
412 THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
men one day shall see it, and struck with admiration they shall
lament their own folly, that they exalted the blood-red SAYord
of the warrior, but that they did rend the modest mantle of
the man who did make peace among mankind.
And to conclude our Saviour's sermon, notice once more,
that we find in this world a race of persons who have always
been hated — a class of men who have been hunted like the
wild goat ; persecuted, afflicted, and tormented. As an old
divine says, " The Christian has been looked upon as if he had
a wolf's head, for as the wolf was hunted for his head every-
where, so has the Christian been hunted to the uttermost ends
of the earth." And in reading history we are apt to say,
" These persecuted persons occupy the lowest room of blessed-
ness ; these who have been sawn asunder, who have been burned,
who have seen their houses destroyed, and have been driven as
houseless exiles into every part of the earth — these men who
have wandered about in sheej) skins, and goat skins — these
are the very least of mankind." ISTot so. The gospel re-
verses all this, and it says, " Blessed are they who are perse-
cuted for righteousness* sake, for theirs is the kingdom of
heaven." I repeat it : the whole of these beatitudes are just
in conflict with the world's opinion ; and we may quote the
words of the Jew, and say, " Jesus Christ was ' the man who
turned the world upside down.' "
And now I find I must be very brief, for I have taken so
much time in endeavoring to show how Christ's gospel turned
the world upside down, in the position of its characters, that
I shall have no space left for any thing else. But will you
have patience with me, and I will briefly pass through the
other points ?
I have next to remark, that the Christian religion turns the
world upside down in its maxims. I will just quote a few
texts which show this very clearly. " It was said by them of
old time, eye for eye and tooth for tooth ; but I say unto you,
resist not evil." It has generally been held by each of us,
that we are not to allow any one to infringe upon our rights ;
but the Saviour says, " Whosoever would sue thee at the law
and take thy cloak, let him take thy coat also." " If any man
THE WOELD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. 413
Bmite thee on the one cheek, turn unto him the other also."
If these precepts were kept, would it not turn the world
upside down ? " It has been said by them of old time, love
thy neighbor and hate thine enemy ;" but Jesus Christ said,
"Let love be unto all men." He commands us to love our
enemies, and to pray for them who despitefully use us. He
says, " If thine enemy hunger, feed him, and if he thirst, give
him drink, for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his
head." This would indeed be turning the world upside down ;
for what would become of our war ships and our warriors, if
at the port-holes where now we put our cannons, we should
have sent out to some burning city of our enemies — for
instance to burning Sebastopol — if we had sent to the house-
less inhabitants, who had been driven from their homes,
barrels of beef, and bundles of bread and clothes, to supply
their wants. That would have been a reversal of all human
jjolicy ; but yet it would have been just the carrying out of
Christ's law, after all. So shall it be in the days that are to
come, our enemies shall be loved and our foemen shall be fed.
We are told, too, in these times, that it is good for a man to
heap unto himself abundant wealth, and make himself rich,
l)ut Jesus Christ turned the world upside do^vn, for he said,
tliere was a certain rich man who was clothed in scarlet, and
larcd sumptuously every day, and so on, and his fields brought
forth abundantly ; and he said, " I will pull down my barns,
and build greater;" but the Lord says, "Thou fool !" That is
reversing every thing in this world. You would have made
an alderman of him, or a mayor; and fathers would have
patted their boys on the head, and said, " That is all through
his frugality and taking care ; see how he has got on in the
world ; when he had got a good crop, he did not give it away
to the poor, as that extravagant man does who has kept on
working all his life, and never be able to retire from business;
he saved it all up; bo as good a boy as So-and-so, and get on
too." But Christ said, " Thou fool, this night shall thy soul
be required of thee." A turning of every thing upside down.
And others of us will have it, that we ought to be veiy careful
every day, and always looking forward to the future, and
414 THE WOKLD TUENED UPSIDE DOWN.
always fretting about what is to be. Here is a turning of the
world upside down, when Jesus Christ says, "Remember the
ravens : they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into
barns, and yet your heavenly Father feedeth them ; are ye not
better than they ?" I do beheve that at this day the maxims
of business are clean opposed to the maxims of Christ. But
I shall be answered by this, "Business is business." Yes, I
know business is business ; but business has no business to be
such business as it is. Oh ! that it might be altered, till every
man could make his business his religion, and make a religion
of his business.
I have not detained you long upon that point ; and there-
fore I am free to mention a third. How Christ has turned the
world upside down, as to our religious 7iotions. Why, the
mass of mankind believe, that if any man wills to be saved,
that is all which is necessary. Many of our preachers do in
effect preach this worldly maxim. They tell men that they
must make themselves willing. Now, just hear how the gospel
upsets that. "It is not of him that willeth, nor of him that
runneth, but of God that showeth mercy." The world will
have an universal religion too ; but how Christ overturns that.
" I pray for them ; I pray not for the world." He hath or-
dained w.^ from among men. "Elect according to the fore-
knowledge of God, through sanctification of the Spirit, and
belief of the truth." " The Lord knoweth them that are his."
How that runs counter to all the world's opinion of rehgion !
The world's religion is this — " Do, and thou shalt live ;" Christ's
religion is — " Believe and live." We will have it, that if a man
be righteous, sober, upright, he shall enter the kingdom of
heaven ; but Christ says — ^This thou oughtest to have done ;
but still, not this can ever cleanse thee. " As many as are
under the works of the law are under the curse." " By the
works of the law shall no flesh living be justified." " Believe
and live," is just the upsetting of every human nation. Cast
thyself on Christ : trust in him. Have good works afterwards ;
but first of all trust in him that died upon the tree. This is
the overturning of every opinion of man. And hence mor-
tals will always fight against it, so long as the human heart is
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. 415
what it is. Oh ! that we knew the i^ospel ! Oh ! tliat we
felt the gospel ! For it would be the upsetting of all self-
righteousness, and the casting down of every high- look, and
of every proud thing.
II. And now, beloved, spare me a little time, while I try to
show THAT AVHAT IS TRUE IN THE WORLD, IS TRUE IN THE
HEART. Instead, however, of enlarging at full length upon
the difierent topics, I shall make my last point the subject of
examination.
Man is a little world, and what God does in the outer world,
he does in the inner. If any of you would be saved, your
liearts must be turned upside down. I will now appeal to
you, and ask you whether you have ever felt this — whether
you know the meaning of it ?
In the first place, yoxxv judgmeiit must be turned upside
down. Can not many of you say, that which you now believe
to be the truth of God is very far opposed to your former
carnal notions? Why, if any one had told you that you
should be a believer in the distinj^uishino: doctrines of free and
sovereign grace, you would have laughed him in the face.
"What! /believe the doctrine of election ? What! lever
hold the doctrine of particular redemption, or final persever-
ance ? Pshaw ! nonsense ! It can not be !" But now you do
hold it, and the thing which you thought unreasonable and
unjust, now seems to you to be for God's glory, and for man's
eteraal benefit. You can kiss the doctrine which once you
despised, and you meekly receive it as sweeter than the drop-
pings of honey from the honeycomb, though once you thought
it to be as the very poison of asps, and gall, and wormwood.
Yes, when grace enters the heart, there is a turning upside
down of all our opinions ; and the great truth of Jesus sits
reigning in our soul.
Is there not, again, a total change of all your hojyes ? Why,
your hopes used to be all for this world. It you could but get
rich, if you could but be great and honored, you would be
happy! You looked forward to it. All you were expecting
was a Paradise this side the flood. And now where are your
hopes ? — not on earth ; for wliere your treasure is, there must
416 THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
your heart be also. You are looking for a city that hands
have not piled ; your desires are heavenly, whereas they were
gross and carnal once. Can ye say that ? Oh ! all ye mem-
bers of this congregation, can ye say that your hopes and your
desires are changed? Are ye looking upward, instead of
downward ? Are you looking to serve God on earth, and to
enjoy him for ever ? Or are you still content with thinking
"What ye shall eat, and. what ye shall drink, and wherewithal
ye shall be clothed ?"
Again, it is a complete upsetting of all your joZeaswres. You
loved the tavern once ; you hate it now. You hated God's
house once ; it is now your much-loved habitation. The song,
the Sunday newspaper, the lewd novel — all these were sweet
to your taste ; but you have burned the books that once en-
chanted you, and now the dusty Bible from the back of the
shelf is taken down, and there it lies, wide open, upon the
family table, and it is read both morn and night, much loved,
much j)rized and delighted in. The Sabbath was once the
dullest day of the week to you ; you either loitered outside
the door in your shirt-sleeves, if you were poor, or if you were
rich you spent the day in your drawing-room, and had com-
pany in the evening : now, instead thereof, your company you
find in the church of the living God, and you make the Lord's
house the drawing-room where you entertain your friends.
Your feast is no longer a banquet of wine, but a banquet of
communion with Christ. There are some of you who once
loved nothing better than the theater, the low concert room,
or the casino : over such places you now see a great black
mark of the curse, and you never go there. Y^ou seek now
the prayer meeting, the church meeting, the gathering of the
righteous, the habitation of the Lord God of hosts.
It is marvelous how great a change the gospel makes in a
man's house too. Why, it turns his house upside down. Look
over the mantle-piece — there is a vile daub of a picture there,
or a wretched print, and the subject is worse than the style of
the thing. But when the man follows J^sus he takes that
down, and he gets a print of John Bunyan in his prison, or
his wife standing before the magistrate, or a print of the
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN. 417
apostle Paul preaching at Athens, or some good old subject
representing something Biblical. There is a pack of cards and
a cribbage board in the cupboard ; he turns them out, and in-
stead he puts there perhaps the monthly magazine, or mayhap
a few works of old divines, just here and there one of the
publications of the Religious Tract Society, or a volume of a
Commentary. Every thing is upside down there. The children
say, '' Father is so altered." They never knew such a thing.
He used to come home sometimes drunk of a night, and the
children used to run up stairs and be in bed before he came
in ; and now little John and little Sarah sit at the window and
watch till he comes home ; and they go toddling down the
street to meet him, and he takes one in his arms, and the other
by the hand, and brings them home with him. He used to
teach them to sing " Begone, dull care," or something worse ;
now he tells them of "Gentle Jesus, meek and mild," or puts
into their mouth some sweet song of old. A jolly set of com-
panions he used to have come to see him, and a roaring party
there used to be of them on a Sunday afternoon ; but that is
all done with. The mother smiles upon her husband : she is
a happy woman now ; she knows that ho will no longer disr
grace himself by plunging into the vilest of society, and being
seduced into the worst of sins. Now, if you could take a
man's heart out, and put a new heart right into him, it would
not be half so good, if it were another natural heart, as the
change that God works, when he takes out the heart of stono
and puts in a heart of flesh —
" A heart reaigncd, submissive, mock,
Our dear Redeemer's throne,
Where only Christ is heard to speak,
Where Jesus reigns alone."
I put, then, the question to you again : Haye you been turned
upside down? How about your companions? You loved
those the best wlio could swear the loudest, talk the fastest,
and tell the greatest falsehoods : now you love those who can
pray the most earnestly, and tell you the most of Jesus.
18*
418 THE WOULD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.
Every thing is changed with you. If you were to meet your
old self going down the street, you would not know him, ex-
cept by hearsay ; you are no relation to him at all. Some-
times the old gentleman comes to your house, and he begins
to tempt you to go back ; but you turn him out of doors as
soon as you can, and say, " Begone.! I never got on so long
as I knew you ; 1 had a ragged coat to my back then, and I
was always giving the publican all my money ; I never went
to God's house, but cursed my Maker, and added sin to sin,
and tied a mill-stone round my neck. So away from me ; I
will have nothing to do with you ; I have been buried with
Christ, and I have risen with him. I am a new man in Christ
Jesus ; old things have passed away, and behold all things
have become new."
I have some here, however, who belong to a different class
of society, who could not indulge in any of these things ; but
ah ! ladies and gentlemen, if you are ever converted, you
must have as great a sweeping out as the poorest man that
ever lived. There must be as true a turning upside down in
the salvation of an earl, or a duke, or a lord, as in the salvation
of a pauper or a peasant. There is as much sin in the higher
ranks as in the lower, and sometimes more, because they have
more light, more knowledge, more influence, and when they
sin, they not only damn themselves, but others too. O you
that are rich, have you had a change too ? Have the frivol-
ities of this world become sickening things to you ? Do you
turn away with loathing from the common cant and conven-
tionahsm of high life ? Have you forsaken it ? and can you
now say, " Although I am in the world, yet am I not of it ;
its pomps and vanities I do eschew ; its pride and its glory I
trample under feet ; these are nothing to me ; I would follow
my Master bearing his cross, through evil report and througli
good report ?" If such be not the ease, if you are not
changed, remember, there are no exceptions ; one truth is
true for all — "Except ye be born again, ye can not see the
kingdom of heaven." And that amounts in substance to
my text: except ye be thoroughly renewed, turned upside
down, ye can not be saved. " Believe on the Loi-d Jesus
THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWX. 419
Christ, and thou shalt be saved ;" for he that believeth shall
be sanctified and renewed — shall be saved at last — but he
that believeth not must be cast away in the great day of
God's account.
The Lord bless you ; for Jesus' sake !
SERMON XXYI.
HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
'• If I had not come and spoken unto them, they had not had sin ; but now
they have no cloke for their sin." — John, xv. 22.
The peculiar sin of the Jews, the sin which aggravated
above every thing their former miquities, was their rejection
of Jesus Christ as the Messiah. He had been very plainly
described in the books of the prophets, and they who waited
for him, such as Simeon and Anna, no sooner beheld him, even
in his infant state, than they rejoiced to see him, and under-
stood that God had sent forth his salvation. But because
Jesus Christ did not answer the expectation of that evil gen-
eration, because he did not come arrayed in pomp and clothed
w^ith power, because he had not the outward garnishing of a
prince and the honors of a king, they shut their eyes against
him ; he was "a root out of a dry ground," he was *' despised
and they esteemed him not." Nor did their sin stop there.
Not content with denying his Messiahship, they were exceed-
ing hot against him in their anger ; they hunted him all his
life, seeking his blood ; nor were they content till their fiend-
ish malice had been fully glutted by sitting down at the foot
of the cross, and watching the dying throes and the expirhig
agonies of their crucified Messiah. Though over the cross
itself the words w^ere written, "Jesus of Nazareth, the King
of the Jews," yet they knew not their king, God's everlasting
Son; and know^ing him not, they crucified him, "for had
they known him, they w^ould not have crucified the Lord of
glory."
Now, the sin of the Jews is every day repeated by the
Gentiles ; that which they did once, many have done every
day. Are there not many of you now present this day, listen-
nUMAN RISPONSIBILITY. 421
irig to ray voice, who forget the Messiah ? You do not trouble
yourself to deny him ; you would not degrade yourselves, in
what is called a Christian country, by standing up to blas-
pheme his name. Perhaps you hold the right doctrine con-
cerning him, and believe him to be the Son of God as well as the
Son of Mary ; but still you neglect his claims, and give him
no honor, and do not accept him as worthy of your trust. He
is not your Redeemer ; you are not looking for his second ad-
vent, nor are you expecting to be saved through his blood ;
nay, even worse, you are this day crucifying him ; for know
ye not, that as many as put away from them the gospel of
Christ, do crucify the Lord afresh and open wide his wounds?
As often as ye hear the Word preached and reject it, as often
as ye are warned, and stifle the voice of your conscience, as
often as ye are made to tremble, and yet say, "Go thy way
for this time, when I have a more convenient season, I will
send for thee," so often do you in effect grasp the hammer
and the nail, and once more pierce the hand, and make the
blood is%ue from the side. And there are other ways by
which you wound him through his members. As often as ye
despise his ministers, or cast stumbling-blocks in the Avay of
his servants, or impede his gospel by your evil example, or by
your hard words seek to pervert the seeker from the way
of truth, so often do you commit that great iniquity which
brought the curse upon the Jew, and which hath doomed
him to wander through the earth, until the day of the second
advent, when he shall come, who shall even by the Jew be
acknowledged the King of the Jews, for whom both Jew and
Gentile are now looking with anxious expectation, even Mes-
sias, the Prince who came once to suffer, but who comes again
to reign.
And now I shall endeavor this morning to show the parallel
between your case and that of the Jew ; not doing so in set
phrases, but yet incidentally, as God shall help me ; appealing
to your conscience, and making you feel that in rejecting
Christ, you commit the same sin and incur the same doom.
We shall note, first of all, the excellence of the mhiistiy^ since
Christ comes in it, and speaks to men : " If'Z had not spoken
422 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
to them." We shall notice, secondly, the aggravation of sin
caused by the rejection of Christ'' s message: "If I had not
spoken to them they had not had sin." Thirdly, the death
of all excuses, caused by the preaching of the Word : '^ Now
they have no cloke for their sin." And then, in the last place,
we shall briefly, but very solemnly announce the fearfully ag-
gravated doom of those who thus reject the Saviour, and in-
crease their guilt by despising him.
I. In the first place, then, this morning it is ours to say, and
to say truly too, that in the peeaching of the gospel, there
IS TO man's conscience the coming of our Lord Jesus
Christ, and the speaking of the Saviour through us.
When Israel of old despised Moses and murmured against
him, Moses meekly said, " Ye have not murmured against us,
but ye have murmured against the Lord God of Israel." And
truly the minister may, with Scripture warrant, say the same :
he that despiseth us, despiseth not us, but him that sent us ; he
who rejecteth the message, rejecteth not what we say, but re-
jecteth the message of the everlasting God. The minister is
but a man ; he has no priestly power, but he is a man called
out of the rest of mankind, and endowed with the Holy
Spirit, to speak to his fellow-men ; and when he preacheth the
truth as with power sent down from heaven, God owns him
by calling him his ambassador, and puts him in the high and
responsible position of a watchman on the walls of Zion, and
he bids all men take heed that a faithful message, faithfully
delivered, when despised and trampled on, amounts to rebel-
lion against God, and to sin and iniquity against the Most
High. As for what I may say, as a man, it is but little that
I should say it ; but if I speak as the Lord's ambassador, take
heed that ye slight not the message. It is the Word of God
sent down from heaven which we preach with the power of
the Holy Spirit, earnestly beseeching you to believe it ; and
remember, it is at the peril of your own souls that you put it
from you, for it is not we that speak, but the Spirit of the
Lord our God who speaketh in us. With what a solemnity
does this invest the gospel ministry ! O ye sons of men, the
ministry is not the speaking of men, but the speaking of God
UUMAX RESPONSIBILITY. 423
through men. As many as are the real called and sent ser-
vants of God, are not the authors of their message ; but they
first hear it from the Master, and they speak it to tlie people ;
and they see ever before their eyes these solemn words —
"Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in
them : for in doing-this thou shalt both save thyself and them
that hear thee ;" and they hear behind them this awful threat-
ening — " If thou warn them not they shall perish, but their
blood will I require at thine hand." Oh ! that ye might
see written in letters of fire before you this day the-v\'ords of
the prophet — •" O earth, earth, earth, hear the word of the
Lord ;" for as far as our ministry is true and untainted by
error, it is God's Word, and it hath the same right and claim
to your belief as if God himself should speak it from the top
of Sinai, instead of sj^eaking it through the humble ministry
ofthe Wordof God.
And now let us pause over this doctrine, and let us ask our-
selves this solemn question. Have we not all of us grossly
sinner against God, in the neglect that we have often put
upon the means of grace ? How often have you stayed away
from the house of God, when God himself was speaking there ?
What would have been the doom of Israel, if, when summon-
ed on that sacred day to hear the Word of God from the top
ofthe mountain, they had perversely rambled into the wilder-
ness, rather than attend to hear it ? And yet so have you
done. You have sought your own pleasure, and Ustened to
the syren song of temptation; but ye have shut your ear
against the voice ofthe Most High ; and when he has himself
been speaking in his own house, ye have turned aside into
crooked ways, and have not regarded the voice of the Lord
your God. And when ye have come up to the house of God,
bow often has there been the careless eye, the inattentive ear !
Ye have heard as though ye heard not. Your ear has been
penetrated, but the hidden man of the heart has been deaf,
and you have been like the deaf adder ; charm we never
so wisely, you would not listen nor regard us. God himself
has spoken, too, at times in your conscience, so that you have
heard it. You have stood in the aisle, and your knees have
424 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
knocked together ; you have sat in your pew, and while
some mighty Boanerges has thundered out the word, you
have heard it said, as with an angel's voice, " Prepare to
meet thy God — consider thy ways — set thine house in order^
for thou shalt die^ and not live.'''' And yet you havo gone
out of God's house, and have forgotten what manner of men
you Vv-ere. You have quenched the Spirit ; yon have done
despite to the Spirit of grace ; you have put far from you the
struggles of your conscience ; you have throttled those infant
prayers that were beginning to cry in your heart ; you have
drowned those new-born desires that were, just springing up ;
you have put away from you every thing that was good and
sacred ; you have turned again to your own ways, and have
once more wandered on the mountains of sin, and in the val-
ley of iniquity. Ah ! my friends, just think, then, for a mo-
ment, that in all this you have despised God. I am certain,
if the Holy Spirit would but apj^ly this one solemn truth to
your consciences this morning, this Hall of Music would be
turned into a house of mourning, and tliis place would become
a Bochim, a place of weeping and lamentation. Oh to have
despised God, to have trampled under foot the Son of man, to
have passed by his cross, to have rejected the wooings of his
love and the w^arnings of his grace ! How solemn ! Did you
ever think of this before ? You have thought it was but despis-
ing man ; will ye now think of it as despising Christ ? For
Christ has spoken to you. Ah ! God is my witness, that often-
times Christ hath wept with these eyes, and spoken to you with
these lips. I have sought nothing but the winning of your
souls. Sometimes with rough words have I endeavored to
drive you to the cross, and at other times with weeping ac-
cents have I sought to weep you to my Redeemer ; and sure
I am, I did not speak myself then, but Jesus spoke through
me, and inasmuch as ye did hear and weep, and then went
away and did forget, remember that Christ spoke to you.
'Twas he who said, " Look unto me and be ye saved, all the
ends of the earth ;" 'twas he who said, " Come unto me., all
ye that are weary and heavy laden ;" 'twas he who warned
you, that if you neglected this great salvation you must perish ;
HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY. 425
and in having put away the warning and rejected the invita-
tion, you have not despised us, but you have despised our
Master ; and woe unto you, except ye repent, for 'tis a fearful
thing to have despised the voice of him that speaketh from
heaven.
II. And now we must notice the second point, namely, that
THE REJECTION OF THE GOSPEL AGGRAVATES MEN'S SIN. NoW,
do not let me be misunderstood. I have heard of persons
who, having gone to the house of God, have been filled with
a sense of sin, and at last they have been driven almost to de-
spair, for Satan has tempted them to forsake the house of God ;
for says he, " The more you go, the more you increase your
condemnation." Now I believe that this is an error ; we do
not increase our condemnation by going to the house of God ;
we are far more likely to increase it by stopping away ; for in
stopping away from the house of God there ns a double rejec-
tion of Christ ; you reject him even with the outward mind,
as well as with the inward spirit : you neglect even the lying
at the i^ool of Bethesda ; you are worse than the man who lay
at the pool, but could not get in. You will not lie there, and
therefore, neglecting the hearing of the AYord of God, you do
indeed incur a fearful doom ; but if you go np to the house
of God, sincerely seeking a blessing, if you do not get com-
fort — if you do not find grace in the means, still, if you go
there devoutly seeking it, your condemnation is not increased
thereby. Your sin is not aggravated merely by the hearing
of the gospel, but by the willful and wicked rejection of it
when it is heard. The man who listens to the sound of the
gospel, and after having heard it, turns upon his heel with a
laugh, or who, after hearing time aftai* time, and being visibly
• affected, allows the cares and the pleasures of this wicked life,
to come in and choke the seed — such a man does in a fearful
measure increase his guilt.
And now we will just notice why, in a twofold measure, he
does this. Because, in the first place, he gets a new sin alto-
getlier^ that lie never had before^ and beside that, he aggravates
all his other sins. Bring me here a Hottentot, or a man from
Kamschatka, a wild savage who has never listened to the
426 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
Word. That man may have every sin in the catalogue of
guilt except one ; but that one I am sure he has not. He has
not the sin of rejecting the gospel when it is preached to him.
But you, when you hear the gospel, have an opportunity of
committing a fresh sin ; and if you have rejected it, you have
added a fresh iniquity to all those others that hang about your
neck. I have often been rebuked by certain men w^ho have
erred from the truth, for preaching the doctrine that it is a
sin in men, if they reject the gospel of Clirist. I care not for
every opprobrious title : I am certain that I have the warrant
of God's Word in so preaching, and I do not believe that any
man can be faithful to men's souls and clear of their blood,
unless he bears his frequent and solemn testimony upon this
vital subject. " When he, the Spirit of truth, is come, he will
reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judg-
ment ; of sin, because they believe not on me." " And this is
the condenination, that light is come into the world, and men
loved darkness rather than light." " He that believeth not
is condemned already, because he hath not believed in the
name of the only begotten Son of God." "If I had not done
among them the works which none other man did, they had
not had sin ; but now have they both seen and hated both me
and my Father." " Woe unto thee, Chorazin ! woe unto
thee, Bethsaida ! for if the miglity works had been done in
Tyre and Sidon, which have been done in you, they had a
great while ago repented, sitting in sackcloth and ashes.
But I say unto you, it shall be more tolerable for Tyre and
Sidon, at the judgment, than for you." " If I had not come
and spoken unto them, they had not had sin: but now they
have no cloke for their ain." " Therefore we ought to give
the more earnest heed to the things which we have heard,
lest at any time we should let them slip. For if the word
spoken by angels was stedfast, and every transgression and
disobedience received a just recompense of reward ; how shall
we escape if we neglect so great salvation ?" " He that de-
spised Moses' law died without mercy under two or three wit-
nesses ; of how much sorer punishment, suppose ye, shall he
be thought worthy, who hath trodden under foot the Son of
HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY. 427
God, and hath counted the blood of the covenant, wherewith
he was sanctified, an unholy thing, and hath done despite unto
the Spirit of grace ? For we know him tbat hath said, venge-
ance belongeth unto me, I will recompense, saith the Lord.
And again, the Lord shall judge his people. It is a fearful
thing to fall into the hands of the living God." I have been
quoting, you see, some Scripture passages, and if they do not
mean that unbelief is a sin, and the sin, which, above all
others, damns men's souls, they do not mean any thing at all,
but they are just a dead letter in the Word of God. Now,
adultery and murder, and theft, and lying — all these are dam-
ning and deadly sins ; but repentance can cleanse all these,
through the blood of Christ. But to reject Christ, destroys a
man hoj^elessly. The murderer, the thief, the drunkard, may
yet enter the kingdom of heaven, if, repenting of his sins, he
will lay hold on the cross of Christ ; but with these sins, a
man is inevitably lost, if he believeth not on the Lord Jesus
Christ.
And now, my hearers, will you consider for one moment
what an awful sin this is, which you add to all your other sins.
Every thing lies in the bowels of this sin — the rejecting of
Chiist. There is murder in this ; for if the man on the scaf-
fold rejects a pardon, does he not murder himself? There is
pride in this ; for you reject Christ, because your proud hearts
have turned you aside. There is rebellion in this ; for we re-
bel against God wlien we reject Christ. There is high treason
in this ; for you reject a king ; you put far from you him who
is crowned king of the earth, and you incur therefore the
weightiest of all guilt. Oh ! to think that the Lord Jesus
should come from heaven — to think for a .moment that he
should hang upon the tree — that there he should die in agonies
extreme, and that from that cross ho should this day look down
upon you, and should say, " Come unto me, ye weary and yo
lieavy laden ;" that you should still turn away from him — it is
the unkindcst stab of all. What more brutish, what more
devilish, than to turn away from him who gave his life for
you ? Oh tliat ye were wise, that yo understood this, that ye
would consider your latter end I
428 HUMAN EESPONSIBILITY.
But again, we do not only add a new sin to the catalogue
of guilt, but we aggravate all the rest. You can not sin so
cheap as other peojDle, you, who have had the gospel. When
the unenlightened and ignorant sin, their conscience does not
prick them ; and there is not that guilt in the sin of the ignor-
ant, that there is in the sin of the enlightened. Did you steal
before ? that was bad enough ; but hear the gospel and con-
tinue a thief, and you are a thief indeed. Did you lie before
you heard the gospel ? The liar shall have his portion in the
lake ; but lie after hearing it ; and it seems as if the fire of
Tophet should be fanned up to a sevenfold fury. He who sins
ignorantly, hath some little excuse ; but he w^ho sins against
light and knowledge, sins presumptuously ; and under the law
there was no atonement for this, for presumptuous sins were
out of the pale of legal atonement, although, blessed be God,
Christ hath atoned for even these, and he that believeth shall
be saved, despite even his guilt. Oh ! I beseech you, recol-
lect that the sin of unbelief blackens every other sin. It is
like Jeroboam. It is said of him, he sinned and made Israel
to sin. So unbelief sins itself and leads to every other sin.
Unbelief is the file by which you sharpen the ax, and the
coulter, and the sword, which you use in rebellion against the
Most High. Your sins become more exceeding sinful, the more
you disbelieve in Christ, the more you know of him, and the
longer you reject him. This is God's truth ; but a truth that
is to be spoken with reluctance, and with many groanings in
our spints. Oh to have such a message to deliver to you, to you
I say, for if there be a people under heaven to whom my text
applies, it is you. If there is one race of men in the world,
who have more to account for than others, it is yourselves.
There are doubtless others, who are on an equality with you,
who sit under a faithful and earnest ministry; but as God
shall judge betwixt you and me at the great day, to the ut-
most of my power I have been faithful to your souls. I have
never in this pulpit sought by hard words, by technical lan-
guage, to magnify my own wisdom. I have spoken to you
plainly ; and not a word, to the best of my knowledge, has es-
caped these lips, which every one of you could not understand.
HUMAIN^ RESPONSIBILITY. 429
You have had a simple gospel. I have not stood here and
preached coldly to you. I could say as I came up yon stnu-s,
" The burden of the Lord was upon me ;" for my heart has
come here heavy, and my soul has been hot within me, and
when I have preached feebly, my words may have been un-
couth, and the language far from proper, but heart never has
been wanting. This whole soul has spoken to you ; and if I
could have ransacked heaven and earth to find language that
might have won you to the Saviour, I would have done so. I
have not shunned to reprove you ; I have never minced mat-
ters. 1 have spoken to this age of its iniquities, and to you
of your sins. I have not softened down the Bible to suit the
carnal tastes of men. I have said damn^ where God said
damn — I have not sweetened it into " condemn." I have not
minced matters, nor endeavored to vail, or conceal the truth,
but as to every man's conscience in the sight of God, have I
endeavored to commend the gospel, earnestly, with power, and
with a plain, outspoken, earnest and honest ministry. I have
not kept back the glorious doctrines of grace, although by
preaching them the enemies of the cross have called me an
Antinomian ; nor have I been afraid to preach man's solemn
responsibihty, although another tribe have slandered me as an
Armmian. And in saying this, I say it not in a way of glo-
rying, but I say it for your rebuke, if you have rejected the
gospel, for you shall have sinned far above any other men ; in
casting away Christ, a double measure of the fury of the wrath
of God sLall fall on you. Sin, then, is aggravated by the re-
jection of Christ.
III. And now, in the third place, the preaching of the
GOSPEL OP CHRIST TAKES AWAY ALL EXCUSE FROM THOSE WHO
HK-VB IT AND REJECT IT. " Now havo they no cloke for their
sin." A cloak is a very poor covering for sin, when there is
an all-seeing eye to look through it. In the great day of the
tempest of God's wrath a cloak will be a very poor slielter ;
but still man is always fond of a cloak. In the day of cold
and rain we see men gathering their cloaks about them,*
if they have no shelter and no refuge, still they feel a little
comforted by their garment. And so it is with you ; you will
430 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
gather together, if you can, an excuse for your sin, and when
conscience pricks you, you seek to heal the wound with an ex-
cuse. And even in the day of judgment, although a cloak will
be a sorry covering, yet it will be better than nothing at all.
" But now ye have no cloke for your sins." The traveler is
left in the rain without his covering, exposed to the tempest
without that garment which once did shelter him. " Now ye
have no cloke for your sins" — discovered, detected, unmasked,
ye are left inexcusable, without a cloak for your iniquity. And
now let me just notice how the preaching of the gospel, when
it is faithfully performed, takes away all cloaks for sin.
In the first place, one man might get up and say, " I did not
know I was doing wrong when I committed such and such an
iniquity." Now, that you can not say. God has by his law
told you solemnly what is wrong. There stand the ten com-
mandments ; and there stands the comment of our Master
where he has enlarged upon the commandment, and told us
that the old law, " Thou shalt not commit adultery," forbad
also all sins of the lascivious look and the evil eye. If the
Sepoy commits iniquity, there is a cloak for it. I doubt not
that his conscience tells him that he does wrong, but his sacred
books teach him that he is doing right, and therefore he has
that cloak. If the Mohammedan commits lust, I doubt not
that his conscience doth prick him, but his sacred books give
him liberty. But you profess to believe your Bibles, and have
them in your houses, and have the preachers of them in all
your streets ; and therefore when you sin, you sin with the
proclamation of the law upon the very wall before your eyes
— you do willfully violate a well-known law which has come
from heaven, and come to you.
Again, you might say, " When I sinned, I did not know
how great would be the punishment." Of this also, by the
gospel, you are left without excuse ; for did not Jesus Christ
tell yon, and does he not tell you every day, that those who
will not have him shall be cast into outer darkness, where shall
be weeping and gnashing of teeth ? Hath he not said, "These
shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous
into life eternal ?" Does he not himself declare that the wick-
HUM.VN RESPONSIBILITY. 431
ed shall be burned up with unquenchable fire ? Has ho not
told you of a place where their worm dieth not, and where
their fire is not quenched ? And the ministers of the gospel
have not shunned to tell you this too. You have sinned,
though you knew you would be lost by it. You have taken
the poisonous draught, not thmking that it was harmless : you
knew that every drop in the cup was scalding with damnation,
and yet you have taken the cup and drained it to its very
dregs. You have destroyed your own souls with your eyes
open ; you have gone like a fool to the stocks, like an ox to
the slaughter, and like a lamb you have licked the knife of the
butcher. In this, then, you are left without excuse.
But some of you may say, " Ah, I heard the gospel, it is
true, and I knew that I was doing wrong, but I did not know
what I must do to be saved." Is there one among you who
can urge such an excuse as this ? Methinks you will not have
the impudence to do so. " Believe and live," is preached
every day in your hearing. Many of you these ten, twenty,
tliirty, forty, or fifty years, have been hearing the gospel, and
you dare not say, *' I did not know what the gospel was."
From your earliest childhood many of you have listened to it.
The name of Jesus was mingled with the hush of lullaby.
You drank in a holy gospel with your mother's milk, and yet
despite all that, you have never sought Christ. " Knowledge
is power," men say. Alas! knowledge when not used, is wrath^
•WRATH, WRATH to the uttermost, against the man who
knows, and yet doth that which he knoweth to be not right.
Methinks I can hear another say, " Well, I heard the gos-
pel preached, but I never had a good example set me." Some
of you may say that, and it would be partially true ; but there
are others of you, concerning whom I may say that this would
be a lying excuse. Ah ! man ; you have been very fond of
speaking of the inconsistencies of Christians. You have said,
" They do not live as they ought ;" and alas, there is too
much truth in what you have said. But there was one Chris-
tian Mhom you knew, and whose character you were com-
pelled to admire ; do not you remember her ? It Avas the
mother who brought you forth. That has always been the
432 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
one difficulty with you up to this day. You could have re-
jected the gospel very easily, but your mother's example stood
before you, and you could not overcome that. Do you not
remember amongst the first early dawnings of your recollec-
tion, how you opened your little eyes in the morning, and you
saw a mother's loving face looking down upon you, and you
caught her wath a tear in her eye, and you heard her say,
" God bless the child, may he call the Redeemer blessed !"
You remember how your father did often chide you ; she did
seldom chide, but she often spoke in tones of love. Recollect
that little upper room, where she took you aside, and putting
her arms around your neck, dedicated you to God, and prayed
that the Lord would save you in your childhood. Remember
the letter she gave you, and your book in which she wrote
your name when you left the parental roof to go abroad, and
the sorrow with which she wrote to you when she heard you
had begun to plunge in gayety and mix with the ungodly ;
recollect that sorrowful look with which she did wring your
hand the last time you left her. Remember how she said to
you, " You will bring my hairs with sorrow to the grave, if
you walk in the ways of iniquity." Well, you knew that what
she said was not cant ; there was reality in that. You could
laugh at the minister, you could say it was his biismess, but at
her you could not scoff; she was a Christian, there was no
mistake about it. How often did she put up with your angry
temper, and bear with your rough manners, for she was a
sweet spirit, almost too good for earth — and you recollect that.
You were not there when she was dying, you could not ar-
rive in time; but she said to her friend as she was dying,
"There is only one thing that I want, then I could die happy —
oh, that I could see my children walking in the truth." Now,
I apprehend such an example leaves you without a cloak for
your wickedness, and if you commit iniquity after that, how
fearful must be the weight of your woe.
But others of you can say that you had no such mother ;
your first school was the street, and the first example you ever
had was that of a swearing father. Recollect, my friend, there
is one perfect example — Christ ; and that you have read of,
HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY. 433
though you have not seen liim. Jesus Christ, the man of Naz-
areth, was a perfect man ; in him was there no sin, neither was
there guile in his mouth. And if you have never seen any
thing like Christian worth anywhere else, yet you can see it
in Christ ; and in ventuiing such an excuse as this, remember
you have ventured upon a lie, for the example of Christ, the
works of Christ, as well as the words of Christ, leave you with-
out excuse lor your sin.
Ah, and I think I hear one more excuse offered, and that is
this : " Well, I certainly had many advantages, but they were
never sent home to my conscience so that I felt them." Now,
there are very few of you here that can say that. Some of
you will say, " Yes, I heard the minister, but he never made
an impression upon me." Ah, young men and young women,
and all of "you this morning, I must be a witness against you,
in the day of judgment, that this is untrue. For, but now,
your consciences were touched ; did I not see some soft tears
of repentance — I trust they were such — flowing but just now.
Xo, you have not always been unmoved by the gospel ; you
have grown old now, and it takes a deal to stir you, but it was
not always so. There was a time in your youth, when you
were very susceptible of impression. Remember, the sins of
your youth will cause your bones to rot, if you have still per-
severed in rejecting the gospel. Your old heart has grown
hard, still you are without excuse ; you did feel once, ay, and
even now you can not help feeling. I know there are some
of you that can scarcely keep your seats at the thought of
your iniquities ; and you have almost vowed, some of you,
that this day you will seek God, and the first thing you will
do, will be to climb to your chamber, and shut the door, and
seek the Lord. Ah, but I remember a story of one, who re-
marked to a minister, what a wonderful thing it was to see so
many people weeping. " Nay," said he, " I. will tell you some-
thing more wonderful still, that so many will forget all they
wept about when they get outside the door." And you will
do this. Still, when you have done it, you will recollect that
you have not been without the strivings of God's Spirit. You
will remember that God has, this moniing, as it were, put a
19
434 HUMAN KESPONSIBILITT.
hurdle across your road, digged a ditch in* your way, and put
up a hand-post, and said, "Take warning! beware, beware,
beware ! you are rushing madly into the ways of iniquity !"
And I have come before you this morning, and in God's name
I have said, " StojD, stop, stop, thus saith the Lord, ' consider
your ways, why will ye die ? Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye
die, O house of Israel ?' " And now, if ye will put this from
you, it must be even so ; if you will put out these sparks, if
ye will quench this first burning torch, it must be so. On your
own head be your blood ; at your own door lay your iniquities.
IV. But now I have one thing more to do. And it is aw-
ful work ; for I have, as it were, to put on the black cap
AND PRONOUNCE THE SENTENCE OF CONDEMNATION. For thoSC
who live and die rejecting Christ there is a most fearful doom.
They shall perish with an utter destruction. There are de-
grees of punishment ; but the highest degree is given to the
man who rejects Christ. You have noticed that passage, I
dare say, that the liar and the whoremonger, and drunkards
shall have their portion — who do you suppose with ? — with
unbelievers ; as if hell was made first of all for unbelievers —
as if the pit was digged not for whoremongers, and swearers,
and drunkards, but for men who despise Christ, because that
is the A 1 sin, the cardinal vice, and men are condemned for
that. Other iniquities come following after them, but this one
goes before them to judgment. Imagine for a moment that
time has passed, and that the day of judgment is come. We
are all gathered together, both quick and dead. The trumpet
blast waxes exceeding loud and long. We are all attentive,
expecting something marvelous. The exchange stands still
m its business ; the shop is deserted by the tradesman ; the
crowded streets are filled. All men stand still ; they feel that
the last great business day is come, and that now they must
settle their accounts for ever. A solemn stillness fills the air :
no sound is heai-d. All, all is noiseless. Presently a great
white cloud with solemn state sails through the sky, and then
— hark ! the twofold clamor of the startled earth. On that
cloud there sits one like unto the Son of man. Every eye
looks, and at last there is heard a unanimous shout — " It is
HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY. 435
he ! it is be !" and after that you hear on the one hand, shouts
of " Hallehijah, liallelujah, hallelujah," " Welcome, welcome,
welcome Son of God." But mixed with that there is a deep
bass, composed of the weeping and the w^ailing of the men who
have persecuted him, and w^ho have rejected him. Listen ! I
think I can dissect the sonnet ; I think I can hear the words
as they come separately, each one of them, tolling like a death
knell. What say they ? They say, "Rocks hide us, moun-
tains fall upon us, hide us from the face of him that sits upon
the throne." And shall you be among the number of those
who say to the rocks, " Hide us ?"
My impenitent hearer, I suppose for a moment that you
liave gone out of this world, and that you have died impeni-
tent, and that you are among those who are weeping, and w^ail-
ing, and gnashing their teeth. Oh ! what will then be your
terror ! Blanched cheeks, and knocking knees are nothing,
compared to thy horror of heart when thou shalt be drunken,
but not with wine, and when thou shalt reel to and fro with
the intoxication of amazement, and shall fall down, and roll in
the dust for horror and dismay. For there he comes, and
there he is, with fierce, fire-darting eye ; and now the time is
come for the great division. The voice is heard, " Gather
my people from the four winds of heaven, mine elect in whom
my soul delighteth." They are gathered at the right hand,
and there they are. And now saith he, " Gather up the tares,
and bind them in bundles to burn." And you are gathered,
and on the lefl hand there you are, gathered into the bundle.
All that is wanted is the lighting of the pile. Where shall bo
the torch that shall kindle them ? The tares are to be burned ;
where is the flame ? The flame comes out of his mouth, and
it is composed of w^ords like these — "Depart, ye cursed, into
everlasting fire, in hell, prepared for the devil and his angels."
Do you linger ? " Depart /" Do you seek a blessing ?
" Ye are cursedy I curse you with a curse. Do ye seek to
escape ? It is everlasting fire. Do ye stop and plead ? No,
^'' I called^ and ye refused ,' I stretched out my hands ^ and ye
regarded me not ; tfierefore I icill mock at your calamity^ I
vyill laugh when your fear comethy '•'•Depart^ again, I say ;
436 HUMAN RESPONSIBILITY.
depart for ever !•' And you are gone. And what is your re-
flection ? Why, it is this : " Oh ! would to God that I never
had been born ! Oh ! that I had never heard the gospel
preached, that I might never have had the sin of rejecting it !"
This will be the gnawing of the worm in your conscience —
"I knew better, but I did not do better." — "As I sowed
the wind, it is right I should reap the whirlwind ; I was
checked, but I would not be stopped ; I was wooed, but I
would not be invited. Now I see that I have murdered my-
self. Oh ! thought above all thoughts most deadly. I am
lost, lost, lost ! And this is the horror of horrors : I have
caused myself to be lost ; I have put from me the gospel of
Christ ; I have destroyed myself."
Shall this be so with thee, my hearer ? Shall this be so with
thee? I pray it may not ! O may the Uply Spirit now con-
strain thee to come to Jesus, for I know that thou art too vile
to yield, unless he compels thee. But I hope for thee. Me-
thinks I hear thee say, " What must I do to be saved ?" Let
me tell you the way of salvation, and then farewell. If thou
wouldest be saved, " Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt be saved ;" for the Scriptui-e says, " He that be-
lieveth and is baptized shall be saved ; he that believeth not
shall be damned." There he hangs, dyuig on his cross ! look
to him and live.
" Venture on him, venture wholly,
Let no other trust intrude ;
None but Jesus
Can do helpless sinners good."
Be you wicked, filthy, depraved, degraded, you are still
invited to Christ. The devil's castaways Christ takes in — the
offscouring, the dross, the scum, the draff", tlie sewerage of
this world, is now invited to Christ. Come to him now, and
obtain mercy. But if ye harden your hearts,
" The Lord in anger dressed,
Shall lift his hand and swear,
* You that despised my promised rest,
Shall have no portion there." "
SERMON XXVII.
FAITH IN PERFECTION.
♦' The Lord will perfect tliat which concemeth me. Thy mercy, Lord,
e»dm-eth for ever : forsake not the works of thine own hands." — Ps^iLil
exxxviiu 8.
In the opening, I must remark that this is not the heritage
of all mankind. The word, "me," in the text, can not be
appropriated by any man, unless lie, in some respects, re-
sembles the character of David, who penned this Psalm. The
text, however, itself, is its own guard. If you look at it, you
will see that there is in its bowels a full description of a true
Christian. I will ask you three questions suggested by the
words themselves, and according to your answer to these
three questions, shall be my reply, yes or no, as to whether
this promise belongs to you.
To begin, let us read the first sentence — " The Lord will
perfect that which concerncth me." Now, have you a con-
cern in and a concern about heavenly things ? Have you ever
felt that eteiTiity concerns you more than time ; that the man-
sions of heaven are more worthy your consideration than the
dwelling-places of earth ? Have you felt that you ought to
have a greater concern about your immortal soul than about
your perishing body ? Remember, if you are»living the life
of a butterfly, the life of the present, a sportive and flowery
life, without making any preparation or taking any thought
for a future world, this promise is not yours. If the things of
God do not concern you, then God will not perfect them for
you. You must have in your own soul a concern about these
things, and afterwards you must have a belief in your heart
that you have an interest in heavenly things, or otherwise it
would be a perversion of holy Scripture for you to appropriate
438 FAITH IN PERFECIIOX.
these precious things to yourselves. Can we then, each of us
put our hand upon our heart and say without stammering,
which suggests a hypocrite — can we say honestly, as in the
sight of God, " I am concerned about the things of God, of
Christ, of salvation, of eternity ? I may not have assurance,
but I have concern. If I can not say, I know in whom I have
believed, yet I can say I know in whom I desire to believe. If
I can not say, I know that my Redeemer liveth, yet I can say
I desire that I may be found in him at last, without spot or
wi'inkle, or any such thing." Well, soul, if thou hast a concern
about the things of God, this is thy promise, and let not Master
Clip-promise take it away from thee ; sufler him not to take
any part of its preciousness ; it is all thine, "The Lord will
perfect that which concerneth thee."
Another question is suggested by the second clause, " Thy
mercy, O Lord, endureth for ever." Have we then tasted of
God's mercy ? Have you and I gone to the throne of grace
conscious of our lost estate ? Have we made confession of
our sins ? Have we looked to the blood of Jesus ; and do
we know that the mercy of God has been manifested to us ?
Have we breathed the dying thief's petition, and have we
had the gracious answer of Jesus ? Have we prayed as the
publican did? and have we gone to our house justified by
God's mercy? Remember, O man! if thou hast never re-
ceived God's pardoning mercy and forgiving grace, this text is
a divine enclosure into which thou hast no right to intrude ;
this is a banquet of which thou hast no right to eat ; this is a
secret place into which thou hast no right to enter. We
must first taste God's mercy, and, having tasted that, we may
believe that he will perfect that which concerneth us.
A third question, and I beseech you put these questions to
your heart, lest you should be misled, by any comfortable
words that I shall hereafter sj^eak, into the foul delusion that
this promise signifies yourself, when it does not. The last
question is suggested by the prayer, " Forsake not the works
of thine own hands." Have you then a rehgion which is the
work of God's hands ? Many men have a religion which is
their own work, there is nothing supernatural about it ; human
FAITU IN PERFECTIOX. 439
nature began it, human nature has carried it on, and as far aS
they have any hope they trust that human nature will com-
plete it. Remember there is no spring on earth that has force
enough in it to spout a fountaui into Paradise, and there is no
strength in human nature that shall ever suffice to raise a soul
to heaven. You may practice morality, and I beseech you do
so ; you may attend to ceremonies, and you have a right to do
so, and must do so ; you may endeavor to do all righteousness,
but since you are a sinner condemned in the sight of God, you
can never be pardoned apart from the blood of Christ ; and
you can never be purified apart from the purifying operations
of the Holy Ghost. That man's religion which is born on
earth, and born of the will of the flesh or of blood, is a vain
religion. Oh ! beloved, except a man be born again, ov from
above, as the original^has it, he can not see the kingdom of
God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and can not
enter heaven ; only that which is born of the Spirit is spirit,
and is, therefore, capable of inheriting a spiritual inheritance
which God reserves for spiritual men. Have I then the work
of God in my heart? am I sure that it is not my own work ?
If I am, experimentally, an Arminian, and if I think I have
proved the truth of Arminian religion, then I have no religion
that will carry rae to heaven. But if, experimentally, I am
compelled to confess that grace begins, that grace carries on,
and that grace must perfect my religion, then God having
began the good work in me, I am the person for whom this
verse is intended, and,I may sit down at this celestial banquet
and eat and drink to my very full. *
Let each hearer, then, pause and put these three questions
to himself — ^Ara I concerned about religion ? Have I tasted
the mercy of God ? Is my religion God's work ? They are
solemn questions ; answer them ! and if you can even humbly
say " Yes," then come ye to this text, for the joy and comfort
of it is yours.
We have three things here. First, the believer^s confidence —
" Tlie Lord will perfect that which concenieth me." Secondly,
the ground of that confidence — "Thy mercy, O Lord, en-
dnrcth for ever;" and thirdly, the result and outgrowth of his
440 FAITH IN PEEFECTION.
confidence expressed in the prayer — " Forsake not the works
of thine own hands."
I. First, then, the believer's confidence — "The Lord
will perfect that which concerneth me." I think, perhaps, the
best way to preach npon a text, if we would have it remem-
bered, is to take it word by word. Let us spell it over then,
as Uncle Tom did, when he was on board of the steamer, and
could not read the long words, but sucked more sweetness out
of the text by spelling it over, than he could have done in any
other Avay.
"The Lord." Well then the Psalmist's confidence was a
divine confidence. He did not say, " I have grace enough to
perfect that which concerneth me ;" " my faith is so strong
that I shall not fail ;" " my love is so warm that it will never
grow cold ;" " my resolution is so firmly set that nothing can
move it;" — no, his dependence was on the Lord — " The Lord
will perfect that which concerneth me." And O Christian, if
thou hast any confidence which is not grounded on the Lord
and rooted in the Rock of ages, thy confidence is worse than a
dream ; it shall deceive thee, pierce thee, wound thee, and
cast thee down to thine own future sorrow and grief. But here,
our Psalmist himself builds uj)on nothing else than upon the
Lord's works. Sure I am the Lord began the good work in
our souls, he has carried it on, and if he does not finish it, it
never will be complete. If there be one stitch in the celestial
garment of my righteousness, which I am to insert myself,
then I am lost. If there be one drachma in the price of my
redemption which I am to make up, then must I perish. If
there be one contingency — one " if," or " though," or " but,"
about my soul's salvation, then am I a lost man. But this is
my confidence, the Lord that began will perfect. He has done
it all, must do it all, he will do it all. My confidence must not
be in what I can do, or in what I have resolved to do, but en-
tirely in what the Lord will do. " The Lord will perfect that
which concerneth me." " Oh," says unbelief, " you will never
be able to purify yourself from sin. Look at the evil of your
heart, you can never sweep that away ; look at the evil fashions
and temptations of the world that beset you, you will surely
• FAITH IN PERFECrriOX. 441
be lured aside and led astray." Ah ! yes, I should indeed
perish if it depended upon myself. I am but as clay upon the
wheel. If I had to fashion myself into a vessel of honor, fit
for the Master's use, I might give up the work in despair. I
am but a little lamb ; and if I had to travel through the wil-
derness by myself, I might indeed lie down and die. Yet if I
be clay, he is my potter, and he will not suffer me to be marred
upon the wheel ; and if I be a lamb, he is my shepherd, and he
carrieth the lambs in his bosom — he wardeth off the wolf, he
smiteth the destroyer, and he bringeth every sheep into the
fold upon the hill-top of glory. The Lord, then, is the Chris-
tian's divine confidence. We can never be too confident when
we confide in the Lord. " Jehovah will perfect that which
concemeth me."
Take the next word, " will.'''* So the Psalmist's confidence
was a confidence for the future ; it is not only v/hat the Lord
does, but what the Lord will do. I have heard people say
that they could trust a man as far as they could see him ; and
I have often thought that is about as far as many professors
trust God, so far as they can see him, and no further. They
believe God is good when the meat is on the table, and the
drink is in the cup ; but would they believe God if the table
were bare, and the cup were empty ? No ; they have good
faith when they see the ravens coming, that they shall have
their bread and meat ; but if the ravens did not come, would
they behove that even then their bread should be given them
and their water should be sure ? They can believe the thing
when they get it, but until they get it they arc doubting. The
Psalmist's faith, however, deals with the future, not merely
with the present. " The Lord will," says he, " the Lord
will." He looks on all through his life, and he feels sure that
what God has done and is doing ho will carry on even to the
end. And now you that are afraid about the future, rest with
us in this sweet promise. How often do you and I stand star-
gazing into tlie future, and trembling, because we think we
see divers portents, and strange sights, which portend some
future trouble. O child of God ! leave the future to thy God.
O leave every thing that is to come in the hand of him to
19*
442 FAITH IN PERFECTION. •
whom the future is ah-eady present, and who knows before-
hand every thmg that shall befall thee. Draw from the present
living water with which to moisten the arid desert of the fu-
ture ; snatch from the altar-fires of to-day a torch with whicli
to light up the darkness of that which is to come. Depend
on it, that He who is to-day thy sun, shall be thy sun for ever
— even in the darkest hour he shall shine upon thee ; and he
who is tO'day thy shield shall be thy shield for evermore ; and
even in the thickest part of the battle he shall catch the dart,
and thou shalt stand unharmed.
Let us turn to this word " wilP^ once again. There is a
little more in it ; it do<*s not say the " Lord may," it does not
say, "I hope he will; I trust he will," but it says he will;
" the Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." A few
months after I first sought and found salvation, I enjoyed the
sweet privilege of full assurance, and in talking with a godly
Christian, I expressed myself very confidently concerning the
great truth that God would ne'er forsake his i^eople, nor leave
his work undone. I was at once chid, I was told. I had no
right to speak so confidently, for it was presumptuous. The
longer I live, the more I feel persuaded that confidence was
proper, and the chiding was not deserved. I believe that the
happiest of Christians and the truest of Christians are those
who never dare to doubt God, but who take his word simply
as it stands, and believe it and ask no questions, just feeling
assured that if God has said it it will be so. The Psalmist in
our text had no more doubt about his own ultimate perfection,
than he had about his existence. He says, " the Lord will
perfect that which concerneth me." There are many things
that may or may not happen, but this. I know shall happen.
"He shall present my soul,
Unblemished and complete,
Before the glory of his face,
With joys divinely great."
All the purposes of man have been defeated, but not the pur-
poses of God, The promises of man may be broken, many of
them are made to be broken, but the purposes of God shall
FAITH IX PEEFECTIOX. 443
Stand, and his promises shall be fulfilled. He is a promise
maker, but he never was a promise breaker : he is a promise-
keeping God, and his people shall prove it so. Come then, ye
that are always hoping amidst trembling, and fear, but are
never confident, for once take that doubting note out of your
mouth, and say assuredly, " the Lord icill perfect that which
conceraeth me." If I be really his child, though full of sin, I
shall one day be perfect ; if I have really set my heart towards
him, I shall one day see his face with joy ; and let whatever
foes obstruct, I shall conquer through the Lamb's redeeming
blood. He " tr?7/ perfect that which concerneth me." I like
to hear God's people speak difiidently of themselves, but con-
fidently of their God. Doubts are the greatest of sins, and
even though Christians have doubts, yet doubts are unchristian
things. The spirit of Christ is not a spirit of doubting, but a
spirit of believing. Doubts may exist in the hearts of spiritual
men, but doubts are unspiritual, carnal, and sinful. Let us
seek to get rid of them, and speak confidently where God's
word is confident.
Now, take the next word, " The Lord will perfect:'' That
is a large word. Our "VVesleyau brethren have a notion that
they are going to be perfect here on earth. I should be very
glad to see any of them when they are perfect ; and if any of
them happen to be in the position of servants and want a
situation, I would be happy to give them any amount of wages
I could spare, for I should feel myself greatly honored and
greatly blessed in having a perfect servant ; and what is more,
if any of them are masters and want servants, I would under-
take to come and serve them without wages at all if I could
but find a perfect master. I have had a perfect master ever
since I first knew the Lord, and if I could find that there is
another perfect master, I should be greatly pleased in having
him as an undermaster, while the great Supreme must ever be
chief of all. Did you ever see a perfect man ? I did once.
He called upon me, and wanted me to come and see him, for
I should get great instruction from him if I did. I said, "I
have no doubt of it, but I should not like to come into your
fiouse ; I think I should be hardly able to get into your room."
444 FAITH IN PEKFECTION^.
How is that ? " Well, I suppose your house would be so full
of angels that there would be no room for me." He did not
like that ; so I broke another joke or two upon his head ;
whereupon he went into a perfect furor. " Well, friend," I
said to him, " I think I am as perfect as you after all ; do per-
fect men get angry ?" He denied that he was angry, although
there was a peculiar redness about his cheeks that is very com-
mon to persons when they are angry ; at any rate I think I
rather spoiled his perfection, for he evidently went home less
satisfied with himself than when he went out. I met another
man who considered himself perfect, but he was thoroughly
mad ; and I do not believe that any of your pretenders to per-
fection are better than good maniacs, superior bedlamites —
that is all I believe they are. For while a man has got a
spark of reason left in him, he can not, unless he is the most
impudent of imposters, talk about his being perfect. What
would I not give to be perfect myself! And you can say also,
what would you not give to be perfect. If I must be burnt
in fire, or dragged through the sea by the hair of my head ;
if I must be buried in the bowels of the earth, or hung up to
the stars for ever — if I might but be perfect, I would rejoice
in any price I might have to pay for perfection. But I feel
perfectly persuaded, that perfection is absolutely impossible to
any man beneath the sky ; and yet, I feel sure, that to every
believer future perfection is an absolute certainty. The day
shall come, beloved, when the Lord shall not only make us
better, but shall make us perfectly good ; when he shall not
merely subdue our .lusts, but when he shall cast the demons
out ; when he shall make us not only tolerable, and bearable,
and endurable, but make us holy and acceptable in his sight.
That day, however, I 4)elieve, shall not come until we enter
into the joy of our Lord, and are glorified together with Christ
in heaven.
Say, Christian, is not this a large confidence ? " The Lord
will make me perfect." He will most assuredly, beyond a
doubt, bring to perfection my faith, my love, my hope, and
every grace. He will perfect his purposes ; he will perfect his
promises ; he will perfect my body and perfect my soul. " He
\\il\ perfect that which concerneth mo."
FAITH IN PEnFEcnoN". 445
And now there is the word " thaV — " that ichicJi"—'' The
Lord will perfect that which concerneth me." Very indefinite,
it seems; but how broad it is. What a broad faith the
Psalmist had ! " Whatever concerns me," says he, " the
Lord will perfect." Once pardon of sin concerned me ; that
he has perfected. Then imputed righteousness concerned me ;
that he perfected. Now, sanctification troubles me ; that he
will perfect. One day, deliverance was my fear, now it is ray
support. But whatever is laid upon my heart to be concerned
about, this comprehensive term, " that," embraces all ; be it
what it may, if I have a spiritual concern upon my soul about
any heavenly thing, that will God perfect.
Go on a step further. Here is a trial of faith. " The Lord
will perfect that which concerneth me." Alas, beloved, we
can not say we have any good thing without having concern
for it. I suppose God never gave us a blessing, but we doubted
whether we should have it before we obtained it. Somehow
or other our doubts always go before God's mercies ; whereas
we ought to believe, and not to feel any anxiety and distrust-
ful concern. lily faith is sometimes tried and concerned about
heavenly thhigs now. But though that faith be tried by an
inward concern about the things of God, yet it surmounts
even its own doubts, and cries, "The Lord will perfect even
this." Have you learnt this lesson aright — being troubled
about a thing and yet believing' about it ? A Christian man
will find his experience to be very much like the sea. Upon
the surface there is a storm, and the mountain-waves are roll-
ing ; but down in the depths there are caverns where quietude
has reigned supreme ever since the foundations of the earth
were digged ; where peace, undisturbed, has had a solitary
triumph. Beloved, it is so with tiie Christian's heart. Out-
wardly, he is concerned about these things. He doubts, he
fears, he trembles ; but in his inmost heart, down in tlie depths
of his soul, he is without a fear, and lie can say confidently,
" The Lord will perfect that which concerneth me."
But I hasten to dwell on the last word. The faith of our
text is a personal faith. "Tiie Lord will perfect that which
concerneth Twe." Here is the loudest note of all ; this is the
446 FAITH IN PEKPECTION".
handle whereby we must lay hold of this sword if we would
use it aright — " that which concerneth me." Oh, it is a sweet
truth to know and believe that God will perfect all his saints ;
'tis sweeter still to know that " he will perfect me^ It is
blessed to believe that all God's people shall persevere ; but
the essence of delight is to feel that Z shall persevere through
him. Many persons are contented with « kind of general
religion, an universal salvation. They belong to a Christian
community ; they have joined a Christian church, and they
think they shall be saved in the lump — in the mass ; but give
me a personal religion. What is all the bread in the world,
unless I myself feed upon it ? I am starved, though Egypt
be full of corn. What are all the rivers that run from the
mountains to the sea, if I be thirsty ? Unless I drink, myself,
what are all these? If I be poor and in rags, ye do but mock
me if ye tell me that Potosi's mines are full of treasure. You
do but laugh at me if you speak of Golconda's diamonds.
What care I for these, unless I have some participation for
myself? But if I can say even of my crust, " It is my own,"
then I can eat it with a grateful heart. That crust which is
my own is more precious than all the granaries of Egypt if
they are not my own, and this promise, even if it were smaller,
would be more precious than the largest promise that stands
in the Bible, if I could not see my right to it personally my-
self. But now, by humble faith, sprinkled with the blood of
Christ, resting in his merits, trusting in his death, I come to
the text, and say throughout this year, and every year, " The
Lord will perfect that which concerneth me" — unworthy me,
lost and ruined me. He will save me y and
" I, among the blood- washed throng,
Shall wave the palm, and wear the crown,
And shout loud victory."
This, then, is the believer's confidence. May God grant you
the same !
II. The second thing is the gkound of this confidence.
The ground of it is this — " Thy mercy, O Lord, endureth for
ever." The believer is sure he shall be saved. Why? Be-
FAITH IN PEKFECmON. 44 V
cause of his merits ? No. Because of the strength of his
own faith ? No. Because he has something which will rec-
ommend him to God ? No ; he believes he shall be perfected
because of God's mercy. Is it not a strange thing that the
advanced behever, when he reaches to the very height of
piety, just comes to the spot where he commenced ? Do we
not begin at the cross, and when we have climbed ever so
high, is it not at the cross that we end ? I kuow my pil-
giimage shall never end to my heart's content till at his cross
again I cast my wreath and lay my honors down. My shis I
laid there, and aught else that he has given me I w^ould lay
there too. Ye began there, and your watchword is the cross.
While yet the hosts are preparing for the battle, it is the
cross. And ye have fought the fight and your sword is red
with blood, and your head is crowned with triumph. And
what is the watchword now? The cross. That which is
our strength in battle is om* boast in victory. Mercy must be
the theme of our song here ; and mercy enduring for ever
must be the subject of the sonnets of Paradise. None other
can befit sinners ; nay, and none other can befit grateful
saints.
Come then, beloved, let us just look at this ground of con-
fidence, and see whether it wull bear our weight. It is said
that elephants, when they are going to cross a bridge, are
always very careful to. sound it, to see whether it will bear
them. If they see a horse going over safely that is not
enough, for they say to themselves, " I am an elephant, and I
must see whether it will bear me." Now, we should always
do the same with a promise and with the groundwork of a
promise. The promise may have been proved by others
before you, but if you feel yourselves to be like huge elephan-
tine sinners, you want to be quite certain whether the arches
of the promise are quite strong enough to bear the weight of
your sins. Now, I say, here is God's mercy. Ah ! this is
indeed all-sufficient. What was it that first led the Lord to
bring you and I into the covenant at all? It was mercy,
pure mercy. We were dead in sin. We had not any merits
to recoraraend us, for some of us used to curse and swear like
448 FAITH IJf PEKFECTION'.
infidels ; some of us were drunkards, sinners of the deepest
dye. And why did God save us ? Simply because he has
said, "I will have mercy upon whom I will have mercy."
" "What was there in you that could merit esteem,
Or give the Creator dehght ?"
'Twas mercy. Well, then, if mercy made God choose me, if
he chose me from no other motive than mercy, if that mercy
always is the same, he always will choose me, and always will
love me. Do you not know it is a rule which none can dispute,
that the same cause must always produce the same effect ?
We are told that the volcano is caused by certain fires within
the earth, which must find their vent. Kow, as long as there
are those inward fires, and they are in a condition to require
the vent, the vent they must have. When the cause is the
same, the effect must be the same.
The sole cause, then, of the salvation of any man is the
mercy of God, and not his merits. God does not look at you
whether you are a good man or a bad man ; he does not save
you because of any thing in yourself, but because he will do
as he pleases, and because he loves to act mercifully ; that is
his only reason. Oh ! my God, if thou lovedst me when I
had not any faith, thou wilt not cast me away because my
faith is w^eak now. If thou lovedst me when I had all my sin
about me, thou wilt not leave off loving me now thou ha^t
pardoned me. If thou lovedst me when I was in my rags,
and beggary, and filth, when there w^as nothing to recommend
me ; at least, my God, I am not further fallen than I was then,
or, if I am, the same boundless mercy that loved me when I
was lost, will love me, lost though I be even now. Do you
not see it is because the basis of eternal love is that on w^hich
we build that w^e derive this inference, that if the base can
not move, the pyramid will not ? "The mercy of God en-
dureth for ever : the Lord will perfect that which concerneth
me."
Note the very words of the text: "Thy mercy, O Lord."
David brings his confidence into the court of divine inspec-
tion, in order that it may there be proved. He says, " The
FAITU IN PEKFECTIOX. 449
Lord will perfect that wluch concerneth me." It is very well
for you and I to speak thus here this morning, but dare we go
up to the very temple of God, and there, feeling his presence,
actually present our confidence before him, and ask him to try
it ? There ai*e many hypocrites in the world that would trem-
ble to play the hypocrite if they felt that they were in the pres-
ence of God. But here we have a man that dares to bring his
faith to God's tribunal ; he puts it in the scales of infinite jus-
tice, and waits the decision. " Thy mercy, O Lord." Can you
do the same ? Who among us can cry out with Toplady —
" The terrors of law and of Grod,
"With me can have nothing to do,
My Saviour's obedience and blood,
Hide all my transgressions from view ?"
Can you come into God's presence and say this, or, to quoto
Hart's words, can you say,
" Great Grod I'm clean,
Through Jesu's blood I'm clean ?"
He that can say this, is blessed indeed ; the Lord shall perfect
that which concerneth him.
Ah, what if God's mercy towards men should change?
Blessed be his name, it can not ; it endureth for ever. But
what if he should remove his mercy from one man to another?
That also he will never do ; it endureth for ever. But sup-
pose we should sin so much that God's mercy should give
way ? It can not give way ; it endureth all the weight of sin ;
it endureth for ever. But what if we should live in sin so long
that at last God denied mercy to us even though we believed in
him ? That can not be ; we can not sin longer than for ever
— his mercy can not be tried longer, and even if it could bo
tried for ever it would endure for ever. All the weight of my
trouble, all the weight of my backsliding, all the weight of my
evil heart of unbehef— all these the everlasting arches of divine
mercy can and will sustain. Those arches never shall rock ; the
stone never shall be crumbled ; it never shall be swept away by
even the floods of eternity itself. Because hb mercy endureth
450 FAITH IN PEEPECnON.
for ever, God will most assuredly perfect the work of his
hands.
And now I come to the third and last point, and here
may the Holy Spirit help me to stir up your minds to
prayer.
III. The third particular is — ^the result of the believer's
CONFIDEXCE — it leads him to prayer. Out upon those men
who have a confidence that helps them to live without prayer.
There are men that live in this world who say we do not need
evidences, we do not need prayer, we do not need good works.
" The Lord has appeared of old unto me, and said unto me,
Thou art one of God's elect, and thou mayest live in sin, and
do whatever thou pleasest, I will save thee at last." Such
characters I hope are getting rare. Alas ! there are certain
places of worship where such a religion as that is fostered, if
it be not begotten. There are some ministers — I trust they
hardly know what they are about — who by leaving out the
doctrine of man's responsibility, naturally lead men into that
guilty and abominable doctrine of Antinomianism which has
done so much to injure the cause of Christ. Hear, then, ye
seed of the presumptuous, and ye that bear the whore's fore-
head, hear and tremble. The Lord hath not chosen you,.
neither has he cast your name into his lap. He has chosen no
man who lives and dies presumptuously trusting that he is
chosen when he has no evidence of it. Do you live without
prayer? Ah! soul; election hath naught to do with thee.
What is intended by the doctrine of reprobation is far more
likely to be thy lot than the glorious inheritance of election.
Dost thou live in sin, that grace may abound ! Every man's
damnation is just, but thine shall be emphatically so. What !
dost thou dare to palm thyself off as a child of God when thou
art a brat of hell ? Dost thou claim that thou art an heir of
light, when the damning mark of Cain is on thy very fore-
head ? What ! when thou art like Balaam, presumptuous
and abominable, dost thou dare still to claim a lot in the in-
heritance of the saints of light ? Away with thy confidence ;
" hell shall sweep away thy refuge of lies." The true-born
FAITH IN PERFECTION. 451
child of God has a spot that is not like thy spot ; he is of a
different mould and make from thee. Thou art a deceiver —
not the legitimate child of God.
Mark, my friends, in the text, that a genuine confidence in
God does not lead us to give up prayer, but leads us to prayer.
" Tlie Lord will perfect me." Am I, therefore to say, " He
will do it, and I will not pray ?" No, because he w^ill do it,
therefore will I pray. Many persons have such shallow minds
that they can not perceive how God's determination and our
own free action can go together. I never find these people
making the same mistake in common life they do on religious
subjects. A man says to me, " Now, sir, if God intends to
save me, I need do nothing." He knows he is a fool when he
says it ; or if he does not' know it, I will soon make him see
it. Suppose he says, again, " If the Lord intends to feed me,
he will feed me, and I will go without my dinner. If the Lord
intends to give me a harvest, he will give me a harvest, and I
shall not sow any wheat, and I shall not plow." Suppose
another were to say, " If the Lord intends to keep me warm
to-dny, he will do it ; so I will not put on my coat." Suppose
a man should say, again, " If the Lord intends me to go to
bed to-night, I shall go to bed ; and, therefore, I shall not _
w^alk. towards home, but sit here as long as I like." You smile
at once, because the folly is self-convicting. But is it not just
the same in religion? Because "the Lord will perfect that
which concerneth me," am I to say I shall not pray ? Why,
no, my dear friends, the fact is, that a knowledge that a thing
is certain prompts a wise man to action. What made Oliver
Cromwell fight so bravely, but because he felt convinced that
he should conquer ? He did not say, " I shall conquer, there-
fore I will not fight :" no, lie said, " I know that I shall con-
quer; therefore keep your powder dry, trust in God, and at
-cm !" So with you ; if you believe the Lord will perfect that
which concerneth us, begin with prayer ; trust the promise,
and let us go on cheerfully through the world, rejoicing in the
Lord our God. Confidence must not lead to idleness, but to
diligent activity.
452 FAITH IX PERFECTION.
And now, note this prayer — " Forsake not the works of
thine own hands." The prayer is full of confession ; it must
be that or else it is never true prayer. The Psalmist confesses
that if God did forsake him it would be all over with him, and
this is a truth, brethren, that you and I ought ever to keep in
mind. We sometimes pray that God will not forsake us in
temptation ; do you not know we should be as much lost if he
were to forsake us in communion as if he were to forsake us
in temptation. When God puts you on the pinnacle of the
temple, you need say, " Lord, hold me up and I shall be safe ;
do not forsake me here." When you are down on the ground,
if the Lord were to forsake you, there you would peiish just
as easily as on the pinnacle of the temple. I have known the
Christian on his knees in the den 'of leopards, cry, " Lord,
save me now," but do you know that he has as great a need
of help when he is on the top of Pisgah? for he still wants to
be kept. Every moment of our life we are on the brink of
hell, and if the Lord should forsake us, we should certainly
perish. Let him but withdraw the salt of his grace, and the
proudest believer must be cast into the depths of bell, and
fall, like Lucifer, never to rise again. Oh ! let this always
make us cry aloud, "Forsake us not, O God."
There is yet another confession in the text — the Psalmist's
confession that alt he has he has from God. " Forsake not
the work of thine own hands." I will not however dwell
upon it, but urge you who are believers, to go home and cry
aloud to God in prayer. " Forsake not the work of thine
hands. Father, forsake not thy little child, lest he die by the
hand of the enemy. Shepherd, forsake not thy lamb, lest
the wolves devour him. Great husbandman, forsake not thy
little plant, lest the frost should nip it, and it should be
destroyed. Forsake me not, O Lord now, and when I am old
and gray headed, O Lord, forsake me not. Forsake me not
in my joys, lest I curse God. Forsake me not in my sorrows,
lest 1 murmur against him. Forsake me not in the day of my
repentance, lest I lose the hope of pardon, and fall into despair ;
and forsake me not in the day of my strongest faith, lest my
FAITH IN PERFECIIO.N- 453
faith degenerate into presumption, and so I perish by my
own hand." Cry out to God, tliat he would not forsake you
in your business, in your fimily ; that he would not forsake
you either upon your bed by night, or in your business by
day. And may God grant, when you and I shall come to the
end of this year, we may have a good tale to tell concerning
the faithfulness of God in having answered our prayers, and
having fulfilled his promise.
I would now this day crave a part in your prayers. My
dear friends, I am confident that God will perfect that which
concerneth me. There has been a work done in this place,
and God has blessed the congregation ; but the w^ork is not
perfect yet. It is not enough to rouse other ministers to
preach the word. I hope I shall never, while I live, cease to
have another j^roject always in hand. When one thing is
done, we will do something else. If we have tried to make
ministers more diligent in preaching, we must try to make the
churches more earnest in praying. When we have built our
new chapel, we must build something else ; we must Jjlways
have something in hand. If I have preached the gospel in
England, it must be my privilege to preach it across the sea
yet ; and w^hen I have preached it there, I must solicit longer
leave of absence that I may preach it in other countries, and
act as a missionary throughout the nations. I am confident
that God will perfect that which concerneth me ; I rely on
that. Do I therefore say that you need not pray ? Oh, no.
Pray that he would not forsake the work of his own hands.
This work is not of our own hands. This labor of love is not
mine, but God's. I have done nothing, except as the instru-
ment ;* he has done it all. Oh, my dear friends, you that love
me, as a brother in Christ, and as your pastor in the church,
go home and plead with God for me this day and henceforth,
that he would not forsake his work ; but that the fire which
has been kindled here may run along the ground, till all En-
gland shall be in a blaze with a revival of grace and godliness.
Be not content to warm your hands at the sparks of this fire.
Ask that the breath of God's Spirit may blow the sparks across
454 FAITH IN PERFECTION.
the sea, that other lands may catch the flames, till the whole
earth bnrnmg as a holocaust to heaven, shall be accepted as a
whole burnt offering before the throne of God Most High.
" May the Lord bless you, and keep you, and cause his face
to shine upon you, and lift up the light of his countenance
upon you, and give you peace," and unto the Father, the Son
and the Holy Ghost, shall be glory for ever !
THE END.
Books Published by Sheldon^ Bldkeman c6 Co,
BRAZIL AND THE BRAZILIANS.
By Eev. D. B. Kidder, of the Methodist Episcopal Church ; and Rev. J. C.
Fletcher, of the Presbyterian Church.
1 large octavo volume. Cloth. $3.
This new and splendidly-illustrated Work (one large volume, octavo, in uniform stylo
with the superb volumes of Dr. Kane's Abctio Explorations), is the joint effort of the
above-named gentlemen, who, as travelers and as missionaries (and one in an official
position as Acting Secretary of United States Legation at Rio), have had a long and varied
«xperience in a land full of interest, whether we regard it in a natural, commercial, polit-
ical, or moral point of view.
There are more than 130 engravings, on steel, wood, and stone, from original and other
■ketches, and by pencils and gravers of the same artists who have so elegantly adorned
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This Work is sold exclusively by subscription, in the Counties of New York, Northern
Pennsylvania, the Canadas, and British Provinces.
DK KANE'S FIRST NARRATIVE.
THE UNITED STATES GRINNEI^L EXPEDITION
IN SEARCH OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN,
During the Years 1850-'51.
A Personal Narrative, by Elisha Kent Kane, M.D., U.S.N.
1 vol., 8vo, upward of 560 pages, containing 200 Steel Plates and Wood Engravings, in-
cluding a fine Steel Portrait of Sir John Franklin, being the only one ever engraved in
America. Also, a BIOGRAPHY OF FRANKLIN, by S. Austin Alliuone, Esq. $8.
This Work is totally distinct from the Second Arctic Expedition, and embraces much
raluable and interesting matter never before published. It should be owned by all who
have purchased the last Expedition, as it makes Dr. Kane's Works complete.
DR. KANES SECOND NARRATIVE.
THE SECOND GRINNELL EXPEDITION IN
SEARCH OF SIR JOHN FRANKLIN,
Under the Command of Dr. E. K. Kane, U.S.N., during the years 1853, '54,
and '55. Being a Personal Narrative ;
And containing an Account of his important Discoveries, the perilous Adventures of his
Party, and the thrilling incidents connected therewith. Illustrated by over 300 Wood
Cuts and Steel Engravings, including Portraits of Dr. Kane and Mr. GrlnnelL la 3
Tolomes, octava
Bound in Cloth, stamped, $5.
Bound in Half-calf, antique or gilt, $8.
THE LIFE OF DR. E. K. KANE, U.S.N.,
The Arctic Navigator. "With fine Steel Portrait
1 voL, 8vo. Bound uniform with Kane's Explorations.
This will b« sold azdusively by AgonU for Six Months from April 1st
Boi'ks Published hy Sheldon, Blakeiuan &f Co.
Egyptian method of raising water,
EGYPT, ARABIA PETR^EA, AND THE HOLY LAND. A Journaj
of Travels in Egypt, Arabia Petrsea, and the Holy Land. By David Millard, Professor
of Biblical Antiquities and Sacred Geography in the Theological School, at Meadville, Pa.
1 vol. 348 pp. ; embossed binding. 12mo. price $1.
From among the various lit-erary notices taken of this work we select the following ; —
" Journal of Tra\-zls in Eo-i-pr, Arabu Fetr^ka and the Holt Land, by David ^Dli^rd.—
A more interesting work of the kind, we think, has rarely ever been brought before the
public. The subject treated upon recommends itself, and those who wish to save time and
gain information will find this volume a valuable cimpanion. A general fault with descrip-
tive works of this part of the globe is the size — so numerous are the thoughts that crowd on
the writer — here, however, we find the whole happily condensed within reasonable limits,
snd with language so weU chosen that the reader may intellectually follow the guidance of
the author. The writer ihinkg, and we agree with him, ' that no volume of eqt?al dimen^
sions can be found to contain more information on the countries of which it treats than
this. ' We have no personal acquaintance with the author, and know not his religious sen
tfments, but we are persuaded that, while all readers will find something in the book that
will please them, no Christian will find that with whch he will have cause to be displeased ''
RdiffUms Recorder.
*' We deem this volume the most interesting book of travels relating to the countries of
which it treats, that has come under our inspection. Its condensed form, and concise maa
oer, together with the ,*^.ehxiefls of its matfter, render it a Valuable work. "— Afonj'oe RepuHiccm
Books Published by Sheldon, Blaheman (& Co,
A NEW BAPTIST HYMN AND TUNE-BOOK,
FOR THE EXCOURAGEMENT OF CONGREGATIONAL SINGING ;
BEING THE PLYMOUTH COLLECTION OF HTMNS AND TUNES:
laOJLBGED AND ADAPTED TO TUB VS& OP BAPTIST CHtTBCIIES.
The grounds on which this hook has been prepared and offered to the Baptist Churches
may be learned from the following correspondence addressed to the publishers of the
*' Plymouth Collection."
Bmokhrn, May 1st, 1857.
Gents : — The Pierrepont Street Baptist Church being greatly interested in the improve
ment of Congrepational Singing, h;\ve had their attention directed to the merit and useful
ness of the " PLYMOurri Collkction of Hymxs axd Tunks" published by you. Many of
us have examined it carefully, used it in our families, and observed its influence upon the
singing in public worship, and we are led to believe that it is, on the whole, better adopted
to promote Oongrej^ational Singing than any other book now before the public, and that,
•with some alterations and additions, it might be well adapted to the use of Baptist Churches^
and be made to supply a want at present extensively felt among ua.
In this view, at a meeting of the Church, held April 1st, 1S5T, the following resolutions
•were passed unanimously, and directed to be communicated to you :— Resolved, Ist. That
•we request of the editor and publishers an edition of the " Plymouth Collection of
Hymns and Tunes'" adapted to the use of Baptist Churches. 2d. And that upon issue
of such an edition, that this Church use the same in their public worship.
Yours truly, WILLIAM F. FORBY, Clebk.
The editor and publishers of the " Plymouth Collection" having signified their will-
ingness to accede to the above request. Rev. J. S. Holme, Pastor of the Pierrepont Street
Baptist Church, Brooklyn, has, at their request, and with the advice and co-operation of
a large number of the pastors of other Baptist Churches, prepared for publication a new-
edition of the " Plymouth Collection." All Hymns have been stricken out that seemed
not in harmony with the •views and feelings of Baptists, and a large number have been
added, not only of a denominational character, but those old familiar hymns, which, by
long use, have become much endeared to the Baptist Churches. The original plan of the
book has been carried out in restoring old standard hymns, which have been mutilated by
attempted improvements, to their former integrity. A few choice hymns have been added
that have never appeared in any collection, and a number of original hymns on Baptism
and subjects in which hymnology appeared especially barren — such as Home Missiong —
have been obtained from very distinguished pens. Especial acknowledgments for orig-
inal hymns are due, among others, to William C. Bryant. Esq., G. W. Bktuune, D.D.,
8. F. Smith, D.D., S. D. Phelps, D.D., Chables TmraBKB, and Rev. Sydney Dyeb.
This edition contains about 150 hymns and 50 tunes more than the original number of
the " Plymouth Collection," making in aU about 1,600 hymns and 400 tunes, which, it ia
believed will form the most complete collection of the kind ever offered to the public
The Musical arrangement for the new matter of the present edition has been under the
control of Pbofessob Robebt R. Raymond.
Among the peculiarities of this book, the following may in brief be specially noted :
1. Its primary object is to promote the interests of Congregational Singing.
2. Every hymn is set to appropriate music. For the most part, the tune is on the same
paj?e with the hymn.
8. It abounds in old familiar tunes, and plain and easy melodies, such as congregations
generally not only can, but love to sing.
4 This book, containing about 1,600 hymns and 400 tunes, presents a wider range
for adaptation and taste than any other book ever presented to the public.
6. It is especially rich in warm, soul-stirring re'vival mclodiea
6. It is adapted equally to the conference meeting, the family circle, and the great
congregation ; so that one book will not only suffice for all these places, but in the uso of,
one book all these separate exercises arc made fo contribute to the improvement of the
music of each, and eroedally to that of the more public services of the sanctuary.
T. The book may be used by churches in the public service, cither toith or witfumt a
boir as they may prefer.
9. The Indexes of this book are so full and complete that it is hoped they •will mate-
fiallj l e ss en the Inoon'^eDlaice so generally felt by ministers in the selection of suitable
PRICES OF THE BAPTIST HYMN AND TUNE-BOOK,
In Phln Binding, $1 00. Extra Gilt, $2 50. Super Extra, $8 60.
Chorehee vishing them for introduction will bo supplied at a liberal discount.
SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & CO.,
FXJBUBEERB, 115 NASSAU STREET, N. Y.
Books Published by Sheldon^ Blaheman <& Co.
A NEW WORK BY DR. WAYLAND.
PRINCIPLES
AND
PRACTICES OF BAPTISTS.
FRANCIS WAYLAND, D.D.
ONE VOIiUMK, l^mo. CLOTH, $1.
From the Christian Chronicle, Philadelphia,
" Dr. Wayland reviews our whole Baptist polity, commends where he sees cause for it,
and reproves and suggests the remedy where he sees cause for this. All our Principles
and Practices as a church he considers and discusses with great simplicity and earnest-
ness. * * * Vfe hope the book will find its way into every family in every Baptist
Church in the land, and should he glad to know it was generally circulated in the families
of other churches."
From the North A'oierican Review.
" "We do not remember to have met anywhere, in the same space, with so much prac-
tical wisdom on sermon-making, on the delivery of sermons, and on the manner of the
pulpit, as is condensed into the last fifty pages of this book."
From the New York Observer.
" We regard it as one of the most interesting features in modern Baptist history, that
one to whom the whole body defers with so much and so deserved respect, has consecrated
the evening of a long and well-spent life, and the maturity of a cultivated and profound
intallect, and the treasures of much laborious study, to the preparation of these essays,
which will be received, not by the denomination only, but by the Christian public, as a
most valuable contribution to ecclesiastical literature."
From the Freewill Baptist Quarterly.
" There has no book fallen under our eye better adapted to our denominational wants
than this very book ; especially in its bearing upon the ministry. Most forcibly does it
urge the encouragement of men from every calling in life to enter the ministry."
From tJie Examiner.
"It is in style of utterance, to use an image of Bacon's, but the first crashing of the
clusters in the press, not the protracted twisting that leaves the harsh taste of grape skin
and stems in the wine. It is, unless we greatly misjudge, a work likely to remain, and
to leave the enduring mark of its happiest influence upon our denomination, history, and
character."
SENT BY MAIL, postage paid, on receipt of ONE DOLLAR,
NEW WORK BY W. R. WILLIAMS, D.D.
CHARITY AND THE GOSPEL;
Being Lectures on First Corinthians, 13th Chapter.
WiU be ready m October.
Books Published by Sheldon^ Blakeman <& Co,
THE ALMOST CHRISTIAN.
By Rev. Matthew Mead.
With an Introdnction by W. R. Willi^vms, D.D. 18mo. Price 45 cents.
" Mr. Mead was cotemporary with those great lights of the Church, Owen, Bunyan,
and Baxter. But his works had the special commendation of Richard Baxter, who ad-
vised such as wished to place the best religions books in their libraries, to obtain as many
of Mr. Mead's as they could get It is full of thought, ingenious in argument, discrimin-
ating, and highly evangelical."
" We hail this comely reprint with increased gladness, the more especially as it is very
appropriate to the times, there being reason to fear that very many have a name to live
While they are dead. For searching fidelity it ranks with the experimental treatifies of
fiaxter and Owen." — Christian Mirror.
" FATHER CLARK ;"
OR, THE PIONEER PREACHER.
By an Old Pioneer. 1 voL, laxge JBrno. Gilt, muslin. *l$ cents.
•• It would not take long to ' guess' who the ' Old Pioneer' is, who has easayed collect-
ing and weaving into a connected narrative the materials of this book. He certainly la
entitled to ' a vote of thanks,' for the suggestive tribute to departed excellence, which ia
here given in a form that ensures ita preservation." — Boston Watchman and Reflector.
*' It is a book that can not fail to interest"— Alsw York Chronicle.
"The adventures of John Clark, in early life, were more wonderful than fiction." —
Philadelphia Christian Observer.
"A picture of his life is filled out to a large extent with the history of that new country,
and will be seen and traced with much interest by the general re&der.''— Philadelphia
Christian Chronicle.
" It abounds in sketches and incidents following the course of emigration from Virginia
to Georgia, to Kentucky, Illinois, and Missouri, which depict various forms and phases of
Eioneer life, and give to the book a most fascinating interest. It can not foil to be an
nmensely popular as well as useful book." — New York Recorder and Register.
"The work abounds with interesting incidents, and has almost the air of a romance,
while yet it portrays a singularly benevolent and exalted character, in the formation of
which may be distinctly recognized the providence and grace of Ctod.." —PhUMelphia
Lutheran Observer.
"The book will be found highly interesting to the adult, but it is especially adapted to
do good to the young. Every Sabbath School should place a copy in its library."— flia/t-
/ord Christian Secretary.
THE MIRROR ;
OR, A DELINEATION OF DIFFERENT CLASSES OP CHRISTIANS.
In a Series of Lectures.
By the Eev. J. B. Jeter, D.D., of Richmond, Va., with an Introduction by
Bey. A. M. Polndexter. 1 voL, 18mo, Muslin, 246 pp. Price 60 cents.
OOKTEMTS.
Introdnction. Living ChristianB.
Growing Christians Useful Christians.
Happy Christians. Doubting Christians.
Timid Christians. Indolent Christians.
Innocent Christiani. Fashionable Christian*
Frivoloas Christians. Sensitive Christians.
Censorious Christians. Obstinate Christiana.
Speculative Christians. Covetons Christians.
Bnm-driDking CbristiaDi. Inoontistent CbristianiL
Books Published by Sheldon^ Blakeman <h Co.
aEAOE TEUMAN;
OR, LOVE AND PRINCIPLE.
By Saulee Rochestee Foed. With Steel Portrait of the Authoress.
1 vol., 12mo. Price $1.
" We have read the book with uncommon interest. The tale is well told, and its de-
velopment is naturaL It is intended to illustrate the trials and triumphs of a young wife,
in maintaining her principles against the intolerance of the open communion friends oi
her husband ; and this is done so as to preserve unfailing freshness in the narrative, and
to throw a flood of light on the principles and practices of the Baptist denomination. We
expect to hear that the book will have multitudes of readers.' ' — New York Examiner.
" This is truly a delightful book. Mrs. Ford has thrown around a young bride— the
Christian heroine of this fascinating romance — such severe, and yet such life-like trials,
that we at once become deeply interested in her behalf, and watch, with great solicitude^
the result of the struggle between Love and Principle, as we follow her through some of
the most trying scenes." — New York Chronicle.
" This work, we predict, will create a sensation in this country srch as has attended
the issue of few books for a long time, and its popularity must exceed that of any other
work of a similar kind that has recently appeared. What is more important still, it is a
book which can not fail to do good wherever it is circulated." — Western Watchman.
" ' Grace Truman' is another religious novel, founded on facts, as any one may see who
is familiar with denominational prejudice. It is written to show how many difficulties
one may meet, and how much actual persecution they may endure, in the attempt to fol-
low out what they conscientiously may believe to be right, when their, friends, relatives,
and social connections believe a different way. Mrs. Ford has skillfully drawn a picture
of what she has seen and known. The work is true to real life, and therefore it will be
read." — Mothers' Journal.
" We have been borne through the perusal of this book with unflagging interest. Like
' Theodosia Ernest,' it is designed for the illustration and defense of our denominational
principles ; and without detracting in the slightest from the enviable reputation of that
work, we do not hesitate to pronounce this more ornate in style, more artistic in plot,
more thrillmg in incident. It can not fail of a wide popularity and an extensive circula-
tion." — Religious Herald.
" We must not overlook, as occupying no minor position among the dramatis person^
of the story, Aunt Peggy, an old, pious, shrewd domestic, and a Baptist all over, inside
and outside, with strong faith in the promises and providence of God. She talks, looks,
and acts like a pious slave of an elevated Christian character, and is allowed great liberties
with Christian people. Talk about the negro caricatures in 'Uncle Tom's Cabin!' _ The
authoress of ' Grace Truman' was born and brought up with this race, and enjoying a
chastened as well as a luxuriant imagination, has drawn truthful and life-like characters
in all her portraits. This book should be extensively circulated. Pastors should see to
it that it goes into every Baptist family."— iJer. John M. Peck, D.D.
SONGS AND BALLADS FOR THE HOME
. AND HOUSEHOLD.
By Sidney Dyer.
1 volume. With Steel Portrait. Price 75 cents.
"A book of mark in the field of poesy." — Correspondent of Watchman and Reflector,
" Mr. Dyer is evidently a poet — ^not a poet on stilts — nor a poet without common sense
brains, nor does he fly away from every-day life on the wings of imagination— but sings
of things famUiar — things of the household, such as come to the heart and aflFections of us
all. Mr. Dyer has added to the stock of our literary wealth." — Chicago Democrat.
" Excellent of its kind. They grow out of the experience of life, and teach us to do
bravely in the battle of life." — Chicago Tribune.
" We have read with the keenest enjoyment many of the pieces in the volume, some of
them with a tear standing in our eye." — Western Christian Advocate.
" These sweet lyrics of Dyer ought to be in every family. They are so pure and musical
—so full of home affections and memories — that they renew within us the feelings and
joys of childhood. Taking up this volume after the toils of the day, late in the evening,
we went on reading and reading, unconscious of the passing hours, until, roused from a
sweet reverie, we found it was past the hour of midnight We most heartily thank tha
publishers for sending us this volume of songs and ballads." — Lutheran Home Journal.
Books Published by Bheldon^ JBlakenian db Co.
THE BAPTIST LIBRARY.
A REPUBLICATION OF STANDARD BAPTIST WORKS.
EDITED BY REV. MESSRS. G. G. SOMERS,
W. R. WILLIAMS, AND L. L. HILL.
1 vol., Royal Octavo. $3 50.
Consisting of over 1300 ^o^es, and embracing thefoUoioing Works:
Westlake'B General View of Baptism.
Wilson's Scripture Manual and Miscellany.
Booth' s "Vindication of Baptists.
Biography of Samuel Stiilman, D.D.
Biography of Samuel Harris.
Biography of Lewis Lunsford.
Backus' 6 History of the Baptists.
The Watery War.
Pengilly's Scripture Guide to Baptism.
Fuller on Communion.
Booth's Pcedo-baptism Examined.
Dr. Cox's Reply to D wight
Bunyan's Grace Abounding.
The Backslider. By Fuller.
Hall on the Ministry.
Hall's Address to Carey.
Hall on Modem Infidelity.
Banyan's Holy War.
Hall's Review of Foster.
The Gospel Worthy of all Acceptation.
Peter and Benjamin.
Prof. Ripley's Review of Griffin on Com-
manion.
Memoirs of Rev. Robert HalL
Fuller on Sandemanianism.
Memoirs of Rev. Samuel Pearce.
Brantley on Circumcision.
Covel on the American and Foreign Bibla
Society.
Terms of Communion.
The Practical Uses of Christian Baptism.
By Andrew Fuller.
Expository Discourses on Genesis. By
Andrew Fuller.
Decision of Character. By John Foster.
The Travels of True Godliness. By Benj.
Keach.
Help to Zion's Travelers. By Robert Hall.
The Death of Legal Hope. By Abraham
Booth.
Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ. By
John Bunyan.
BiooBAPHiOAi. Sket<;hf.b of Elijah, Craig,
Joseph Cook, Daniel Fristoe, Oliver Hart,
Dutton Lane, James Manning, Kicliard
Major, Isaac Backus, Robert Carter, Silas
Mercer, Joshua Morse, Joseph Reese,
John Waller, Peter Worden, John Wil-
liams, Elijah Baker, James Chiles, Lemuel
Covel, Gardener Thurston, Jeremiah
Walker, Saunders Walkor, William Web-
ber, Shubael Steams, Eliakim Marshall,
Benjamin Foster, Morgan Edwards, Daniel
MarshalL
" The Library is a dfitervedly popular work ; for it is a choice selection fi-om pious and
taloited productions. The writings of such men need no encomium. Most of them have
long been favorably known. They have stood the test of time. It contains some rare and
costly works; some that are little known, yet highly prized by all who have enjoyed the
privilege of perusing them. Here the humblest child of God may, if he choose, secure
standard authors, for a trifle, and bless himself with a fund of useful reading, unsurpassed
by any similar compilation in Christendom. Wo cordially approbate the publication. It
merits a liberal patronage."— ITMtem Baptist Revievo.
Tlio same "Works, in separate Volumes, could not be furnished for lesfi than
Twenty Dollars. In this form, they are offered at the Low Price of $3 50.
Books Published by Sheldon^ Blakeman c5 Co.
BENEDICT'S HISTORY OF THE BAPTISTS.
A General History of the Baptist Denomination in America, and other parts
of the "World.
By David Benedict.
Containing 9T0 large octaro pages in one volume, bound in library sheep. Witli a
STEEL POETEAIT OP EOGER WILLIAilS. Price $3 50.
This complete and valuable History of the Baptist Denomination is well deserving the
large sale it has among the members of our church.
COMPENDIUM OF THE FAITH OF THE
BAPTISTS.
Paper. Price, per dozen, 50 cents.
Every church should get a supply for its members.
THE LIFE, CHAEACTER, AND ACTS OF
JOHN THE BAPTIST,
And the Relation of his Ministry to the Christian dispensation, based upon
the Johannes der Taufer of L. Von Rohden.
By the Eev. Wm. C. Dtincan, M.A.,
Professor of the Greek and Latin Languages and Literature in Louisiana University.
1 vol., 12mo. 261 pages. Price 75 cents.
" The work as we have it in this volume, and so far as we have been able to examine it,
is thorough, learned, and decidedly able." — Puritan Recorder.
" It is the only complete work on this subject in English, and we need no other; we
hope no one will fail to procure the work." — N. Y. Chronicle.
" This is an acceptable addition to religious literature — ^indeed the only work in the lan-
guage exclusively devoted to the life and ministry of the Baptist. It is based upon Von
Kohden' s German treatise, which Neander so warmly commends ; and, indeed, the whole
of Von Rohden' s work is comprised in this volume, but with very considerable additions
of original matter, which give it increased value to the biblical student, and also better
adapt it to the wants of the general reader."
ROLLINGS ANCIENT HISTORY
OP THE EGYPTIANS, CARTHAGINIANS, ASSYRIANS, BABY-
LONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS, MACEDONIANS .
AND GRECIANS.
By Charles Rollin.
Abridged by W. H. Wyckoff, A.M.
Complete in One Volume, 8vo. Price $1 75.
Books Published by Sheldon, Blakeman if Co,
THE ENGLISH BIBLE ; Or, History of the Translation of the Holy
Seriptiu-es Into the English Tongue. With Specimens of the early English Versions, uid
Portraits of Wickliffe and Tyndale. By Mbs. H. C. C5onant. 1 voL, 8vo. Price $1 26.
This work presents a continuous view of the progress of Bible- translation, in the English
language, from the first version by Wickliflfe in 1880, to the last, made by order of King
James in 1611 ; giving an account of the successive English versions of AVicklifl'e, Tyndale,
Coverdale, Taverner, Cranmer, theGenevan Exiles, the Bishops, the Douay (Catholic ver-
sion, and King James' EcvL^ion, and of the relation of the earlier versions to the one now in
oae. The subject embraces the leading epochs of Anglo-Saxon civilization and fireedom.
TABLE OF CONTENTS:
PART FIRST.
ENGLAND WITHOUT THE BIBLE.
Chapteb L— The Bible the People's Char-
ter. Relation of Wickliflfe to his age.
Chaptsb IL— Keign of Priestcraft. The
Papal Army in England.
Chaftsb IIL — Counter-influences; their
inefficiency.
Chaptkb IV.— Wickliffe, the Bible- Apostle.
CU4.PTEB V. — Persecution of WickliflTe by
Papal Clergy.
Ohapter VI. — Wicklitfe's Views of the
New-Testament Ministry. Character and
influence of his '• poore priest es."
Chapter VIL— Wickliflfe attacks the strong-
hold of Popery. Silenced as Theological
Professor at Oxford.
Chapter VIIL — Concentrates his labors on
the enlightening of tlie common people.
Originates Religious Tracts.
Chapter IX.— Wickliffe" s Bible. Its per-
manent influence on English Christianity,
and on the English language and literature.
PART SECOND.
AGE OF BIBLE TRANSLATION IN
ENGLAND.
1525-1611.
Obaftcb L — Continued Influence of Wlck-
lifle's Bible among the people. Revival
of classical and sacred learning in the
schools. Opposition of the Clergy.
Ohaptbb II.— William Tyndale's New Tes-
tiunent Proscribed by Church and State.
Chaptkb III. — Tyndale's Reformatory
Writings.
Chaptkb rV. — Persecution of Tyndale by
Cardinal Wolsey.
CbAPTKB v.— The New Antagonist Cha-
racter of Sir Thomas Moore. Ills early
connection with the cause of Cburch-Re-
Ohaptr VI.— The theoretical Reformer
becomes the practical Conservative. Dls-
tmsts the Reformation as revolutionary
In it* tendency. Grounds of his condem-
nation of Tyndale's New Testament
Chapter VIL— Sir Thomas Moore as Lord
Chancrllor. The Wvil power now the
leader in persecution. Tyndale's New
Testament proscribed by royal manifesto.
Blble-baming at Paul's Cross.
Chapter VIII.— Frith Tvndalft^ youthful
assistant in Bible-translation. His brilliant
and heroic character His martyrdom.
Ohaptkr IX. — Anne Bolevn, the Koval Pa-
trviMsc The King's Divoi e. England
Bei)arated from the Papacy. Anne's Influ-
ence in favor of the Bible.
Chapter X.— Efforts by King and Clergy
to entrap Tyndale. His imprisonment
and martyrdom.
Chapter XL— Triumph of the Principle.
Tyndale's Bible authorised to be read in
public and in private, without restriction.
Chaptbe XII.— Coverdale's Bible.
Chapter XIII.— Taverner's Bibie.
Chapter XIV. — Cranmer's Bible. The
Anglican Church. Rise of Puritanism in
the Church.
Chapter XV .—The Reign of Terror. Cha-
racter of Bloody Mary. Protestant Mar-
tyrs and Exiles.
Chapter XVI.— The Genevan Version. Its
superior Scholarship. Its influence on
the development of Puritanism in the
Church. The Family Bible of England
for nearly a century.
Chapter XVIL — The Bishop's Bible.
Queen Elizabeth's Policy with reference
to the Church. Conflict between Prelacy
and Puritanism.
Chaptkb XVIII.— The Bishop's Bible-
continued. Motives of its projector. Arch-
bishop Parker. First English Version of
the Scriptures bearing the impress of
party.
Chapter XIX.— Rhemlsh or Donay Bible;
the Catholic Version. Its Origin, Charac
ter and Influence.
Chaptbr XX.— The Common Version. State
of Parties In the Church at James' Acces-
sion. Hampton Court Conference; tri.
umph of the prelatical party. Proposa
for a Revision of the Church-Bll le favor-
ably received by the King. His motives.
His plan for the work.
Chapter XXI. — The Common Version-
continued. The Kings liberal arrange-
ments for securing and rewarding compe-
tent revisers. Principles of translation
prescribed by the Klnje; their influence
on the character of the V ersion. It.s ScLo-
larshlp. Contemporaneous criticism. Ob
stacles to Ita reception within and without
the Clinrch. The Just claims of the Com-
mon Version.
Chapter XXII.— Retrospect Leading ch«p
ractcristlrs and Influence of English Bible.*^
Translation. New and brilliant era of
Pacrcd Learning. Progress In every
branch of BIbliral knowledge. Restora-
tion of the Original Text for the use »>f the
learned. Present stale of HchoIarshIn two
centnries hi advance of the English Bible
Books Published by Shetdon, Blakeman <^ Oo.
** -4 Mod Absorbing Book.'*
MRS. LINCOLN PHELPS' NEW ROMANCE, IDA NORMAN ; or, Triali
and their Uses, is one of the most popular books issued this season. Published in one
volume, 12mo, cloth, beautifully illustrated in tint. Price, $1 25.
READ WHAT THE CRITICS SAY OF IT.
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Otwego County Gazette.
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Ambassador,
" Few books that we have ever seen combine m an equal degree the highest moral and
religious sentiments with the highest dramatic interest. Parents who reject the mass of
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safely." — JVew York Recorder.
" We entered upon its perusal at the early dawn of a beautiful day. We were soon lost
to every thing else but the story of Ida Norman, and the trials and vicissitudes of life, as
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GILFILLAN'S NEW WORK. A Third Gallery of Portraits, by George
GilfiUan. One volume, 12mo. Cloth. Price $1 25.
FUe of French Revolutionists.
MiRABEAU,
Marat,
Robespierre,
Danton,
Vergniaud,
Napoleon,
Qmstdlaf n of Sacred Authors.
Edward Irving,
Isaac Taylor,
Robert Hall,
Dr. Chalmers.
CONTENTS :
A Cluster of New Poets.
Sydney Yendys,
Alexander Smith,
J. Stanyon Bigg,
Gerbald Massey.
Modern Critics.
Miscellaneous 8ketche$.
Carule and Sterling,
Neal and Bunyak,
Edgar A. Pob,
Edmond Burke,
Sir Edw. Lytton Bitlwib,
Benjamin Disraeli,
Prof, Wilson,
Henry Rogeks,
jEschylus, Promethkct
Bound and Unbound,
Shaksfeare, a Lecture.
Hazutt and Hallam,
Jeffrey and Coleridqe,
Delta,
Thackeray,
T. Babington Maoaulat.
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This volume is all alive and flashing with poetic spirit, at times challenging criticism,
•nd again extorting swift admiration." — Evening Mirror.
" He has imbued them all with his own superabundent vitality ; we never fall asleep
nrhile we watch the as yet undeveloped likeness leap into light and life beneath the urtist's
land. Gilfillan is a passionate and rapid writer ; his quick and impetuous thought has
moulded for itself an utterance of language more vigorous, more terse and emphatic,
iian any man of less genius would be able to handle or control. His words, in their ac-
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much to make them smile, and much to arouse that noble and more humane emotion
irhose symbol is a tear, then we can only recommend them to look out for such books as
iey require themselves — for we can find no recent issue of the American press which,
lor so many reasons and so strongly, we can recommend." — United Stales Review.
" It is an exceedingly entertaining book, and displays varied learning and scholarship
Muted MTith rare critical acumen and a lively v^tw of satire." — New York Day Ihok.*
FOURTEEN DAY USE
RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED
This book is due on the last date stamped below, or
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Renewed books are subject to immediate recall.
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General Library
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VB 33828
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THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY
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